


Scenes From an Inquisition - Between You and Me

by Schattenriss



Series: The Contours of Shadows [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Developing Relationship, Drama, Humor, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 12:50:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 60,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13077243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schattenriss/pseuds/Schattenriss
Summary: All tales of true love have a beginning. This is how it happened for Dorian Pavus and Kai Trevelyan.





	1. Watch That Man

**Author's Note:**

> Part 4 of "The Contours of Shadows", but can be read as a stand alone.
> 
> As this covers Kai and Dorian's early relationship, some dialogue has been retained from in-game, though I've tried to keep it to a minimum, only including those verbatim bits that need to be in. Those words belong to BioWare.

“He was holding his own against the rift. Do you have any idea how fucking _amazing_ that is?”

We trudged back to our rooms at Redcliffe’s best inn (it called itself _The Tradewinds_ , something for which Lake Calenhad, which it fronted on, had never been famous). I was probably boring the others, carrying on as I was, but I didn’t really care.

Sera rolled her eyes. “Yeah, Kai. Just as amazing as the last three times you brought it up.”

“Sorry, but the skill that takes—” I pushed open the door, letting my favourite elven archer go in ahead of me. An elderly couple seated in the lobby looked at us with alarm.

“Yes, Herald, it was most impressive,” Cassandra, who was just behind me, didn’t sound impressed either.

I stopped as the others trouped in. “Well, if there’s nothing else requiring my attention, I’m going to get cleaned up and hunt down beer and something to eat,” I said.

Sera, Varric and Blackwall all looked at Cass expectantly. I may have been the de facto leader of our group, but she decided when we were done for the day.

“I believe we can safely take the rest of the night off,” she replied.  “Shall we meet in the common room in the morning?”

Everyone agreed to meet mid-morning and we went our separate ways. Normally I found the way they kept me somewhat at a distance annoying. They’d say it was a sign of respect as I was their so-called leader, but it was mostly because of the “Herald of Andraste” nonsense. Some of them seemed at least half convinced I’d truly been marked by Andraste herself as some sort of avatar, spared to do her godly bidding on Thedas. This despite my repeated denials that I even believed in the lady, let alone had any interest in acting on her behalf. That and the stupid glowing hand made people nervous. As far as that goes, the stupid glowing hand made _me_ nervous.

This time it didn’t bother me (the isolation, not the mark on my hand — that always bothered me). I wanted to think about everything that had just happened in the Redcliffe Chantry, and I didn’t know any of them well enough to be comfortable discussing it.

I went up to my room long enough to remove my armour and grab clean clothes, then went to the bathhouse. I was pleased to find they had showers as well as conventional tubs; my estimation of the place went up a few notches. Once I’d rid myself of the sweat and ick of assorted Fade demons and arranged for my clothes to be laundered, I returned to the inn’s common room, ordered food and a beer, and found a table in the back corner.

Sera, Varric, Blackwall and Cassandra were seated together, talking and laughing as they ate. Solas had remained at Haven, claiming he wanted to do some research. I was just as glad he wasn’t along. I liked him well enough, but the elf’s obsession with the Fade got old, fast. He also seemed to think I, as a mage, should want to ask him questions about it. Many, many questions with long, long answers.  I’d seen the Fade, was familiar with it and its denizens, and had more important things on my mind.

Like the fact that a Tevinter Magister — Gereon Alexius by name — was not only in Redcliffe, but had somehow gotten the large group of so-called ‘rebel’ mages there to pledge themselves to him and Tevinter. This was highly inconvenient because they were the same mages we had come to Redcliffe to recruit for the Inquisition. We needed them to help close the gigantic rift in space/time that was chewing up the sky above the Frostback Mountains, which I thought was far more important than whatever Alexius wanted them for.

I knew the mages had been having a rough time of it — since they’d been offered sanctuary in Redcliffe by the king and queen of Ferelden, they’d gained some stability and legitimacy, but those templars who still wanted to destroy them also knew exactly where to find them — but I couldn’t imagine a good enough reason to pledge themselves to indenture in Tevinter. I also wondered how Alexius had managed to talk them into it so easily.

Interestingly, his son, Felix (who was ill) was working against him, because Dear Old Dad had joined some sort of Tevinter supremacist cult.

And that brought me to the other Tevinter mage (mage – not magister; not all Tevinter mages are magisters), Felix's friend Dorian.  It was him I couldn’t help but dwell on. We’d entered the Chantry expecting to find Felix and have a talk about what thoughts he had on stopping his father. Instead we found an open rift spitting out Fade demons and one lone mage battling them. He was not only holding his own, which would have been incredible enough, he was winning. At least, until the rift inevitably spit out more demons and he became overwhelmed due to fatigue. 

He had to know that, but he simply put down the last demon of the batch he’d been fighting, regarded us all calmly and said, “Good, you’re finally here. Now help me close this, would you?” He looked as if he’d barely broken a sweat. He also, I must say, looked stunning. I knew I should be watching the rift, but he was much more intriguing.

With all of us engaging them, we made short work of the next waves of demons.  It was little enough challenge that I was able to watch him while we fought. His style was quite different from the combat styles I’d been taught in all manner of small ways. His was flashy, which matched his wardrobe, but what I noted most was the utter, graceful confidence he evinced with every move and every spell. He took pleasure in what he was doing, and he was brilliant at it. I knew the feeling, but had rarely been able to allow myself that level of freedom to let go and revel in using my talent.

In what felt like no time, I shut down the rift.

We approached each other now that there was time for introductions. He was looking me up and down, coolly assessing as I did the same to him. He was about my size with an athletic build (especially for a mage), and thick hair as black as my own (if I ever allowed it to grow out) buzzed short at the sides. He had a carefully sculpted moustache that curled upward at the tips even after the battle (not something I normally go for, but on him it looked perfect). His skin was a warm brown, lips full, nose classic, and his eyes were a riveting light grey. I told myself sternly that he likely had an equally attractive wife back in Tevinter — or a pack of female admirers he could choose from — but there was no harm in enjoying the view while I played diplomat.

He introduced himself as Dorian of House Pavus, “Most recently of Minrathous.”

I introduced myself as Kai Trevelyan.

"The Herald of Andraste," Cassandra interjected.

I looked him in those riveting grey eyes and repeated firmly, "Kai Trevelyan."

He raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “ _Not_ the Herald of Andraste?”

I smiled. “Only for promotional purposes. Pleased to meet you, Dorian of House Pavus.”

“Delighted. Your promotional people have been doing an admirable job — it seems all the south is talking about you.”

“Another Tevinter. Be cautious of this one,” Cassandra muttered behind me. 

I ignored her. “I doubt _all_ the south finds me that fascinating, at least not personally. It’s the rift closing that impresses people.”

“It is rather impressive,” he said with a faint smile. “How do you do it, anyway?’

“Proprietary secret,” I said.

He looked at me sharply then grinned. “You don’t even know, do you? You just point, wiggle your fingers and _boom!_ Rift closes.”

I half smiled back. “The finger-wiggling is entirely optional. I think the punch at the end is a pretty good finishing move.”

“Agreed. It’s far more dramatic with punctuation. You should shout something impressively incomprehensible. That always excites the audience. Though I must say, they seem more impressed with the idea that you’re Andraste’s favourite avatar.”

I gave a contemptuous snort and changed the subject. “So what brings you to Redcliffe? Am I to take it you know something about the situation here?”

He explained that Alexius had been his mentor, he wanted to help, and we _needed_ that help because Alexius was fucking around with time magic, something Dorian had worked on with him when it was a theoretical exercise. The scary part was, Alexius appeared to have gotten it to work, though he was ripping pockets of space/time to shreds in the process.

There was more, of course. The Venatori had some weird obsession with me, Alexius was looking for a way to cure Felix and had gone off the deep end, apparently pinning his hopes on whatever the Venatori were up to. He needed to be stopped because at the very least the time magic he was fucking with was, as Dorian so colourfully put it, unravelling the world. I noticed even Dorian’s teeth were perfect.

After dropping those bombs, Dorian had announced he couldn’t stay in Redcliffe, but if we wanted to take on Alexius, he wanted in. And did he tell us where he could be found? Of course not. He said _I’ll be in touch_ and left.

All of which left me sitting in the common room of our inn, feeling both intrigued and disgruntled. It may have been a great exit line, but left me wondering what he expected us to do. Go back to Haven and wait for him? Stay in the Hinterlands but not in Redcliffe? And how bloody long were we supposed to wait for him to “be in touch”?

I also had about a thousand questions I wanted to ask him. As a mage, I would love to learn about the time magic he’d been working on, as well as anything else he cared to tell me about how they approach magic in Tevinter. He was obviously powerful and skilled, and I knew there was much the Circles hadn’t deigned to teach us.

On a more personal level, though I was sure I was doomed to disappointment I dearly wanted to get to know him.  I’d only talked to him for a few minutes, but he’d come across as intelligent and witty and, yes, damned attractive.

_I’ll be in touch._

I needed to find out more, and I didn’t want my erstwhile advisors or companions involved. Dorian may have gone into hiding, but I knew Alexius had moved himself and his retinue into Redcliffe Castle, and his retinue included Felix, who was working with Dorian. All I needed to do was meet privately with him. How to accomplish that was the tricky part.

_=#=_

I sipped my beer and waited until my companions were all distracted, which was easier than I’d anticipated. Two burly local men who’d been noisily drunk when we sat down obliged my wishes by getting into a shouting and shoving match on the other side of the room. I wasn’t sure what the dispute was about, but furniture was starting to get knocked into. While everyone was watching the scuffle, I slipped out the back. That wouldn’t have been possible even a few months earlier, when Cassandra was watching me like a hawk. As time passed and I not only didn’t run away, but proved to be a competent leader, she’d slowly thawed towards me despite my being a mage and non-believer.

I returned to the Gull and Lantern pub where I’d first met Alexius. His former rebel mages appeared to have made it their base of operations. I got a beer and circulated slowly, searching for someone I could trust. I got a few curious looks, but most of the patrons ignored me.

The first that didn’t was a woman who stood as I approached her table. From the redness of her face and the waver as she tried to stand in one spot, I concluded she’d had a few too many. She glared at me and said, “I remember you. You were a few years ahead of me in the Ostwick Circle. Really come up in the world, right? Marked by Andraste, ordering Templars around. Must be nice.”

I said, “And you are?”

“Linnea. I’m not surprised you don’t remember me. You were the golden boy prodigy, and I barely passed my Harrowing.”

I had nothing to say to that. I wasn’t going to apologize for being competent. 

She filled in the gap my silence left. “I _stayed_ in the Circle after you _left_ , but the First Enchanter hunted _you_ down to represent us at the Conclave.”

“He didn’t hunt me down. He offered me the opportunity as a friend,” I said flatly. “And if you stayed with the Circle, what are you doing here?”

“Templars attacked then everyone started fighting among themselves about whether to join the rebellion. I left with the last group before the Circle fell apart.” She drained her drink and glared at me.

“It didn’t fall apart. It’s still there and Oliver’s still in charge of it. If you’re going to try to pick a fight with me, you might at least want to get your facts straight first,” I said.

She sneered. “ _Oliver_ , is it? Was that it? You two had a thing going?”

I snorted. “No. After I left the Circle, we became friends, that’s all. Or are you unfamiliar with the concept?”

“Yeah, well, we’re with _Tevinter_ now. “

“Lucky Tevinter,” I said sardonically.

“You’re still a stuck-up asshole, Trevelyan.”

“I’m a _busy_ stuck-up asshole, Linnea. If you’ll excuse me.” I pushed past her. The last thing I wanted to do was get into a fight with a drunk. I had my own relations with Tevinter to establish.

I found the man I’d been looking for sitting at a small table by himself, sipping a mixed drink. I couldn’t remember his name, but I recalled his smooth, emotionless visage all too well. He was the Tranquil man I’d invited to join the Inquisition before my initial meeting with Alexius. 

I said, “Mind if I join you?” as I slid into the seat across from him.

“Not at all,” he said. “Though not many mages care to talk with me.”

“It’s not personal. It’s simply terrifying to look into the face of what we could become.” I knew my honesty wouldn’t offend him.

“Is there some way in which I can help you, Herald?”

I drank some of my beer and sighed. “Please. Kai, not Herald.”

“As you wish,” he said.

“I was wondering — I know you said Alexius forced all Tranquil out of the castle along with non-mages, but is anyone you know still there?”

“I know a few of the support staff, yes.” Even though I understood why, his complete lack of curiosity was disconcerting.

“Would any of them be able to pass a note to someone in the castle without getting noticed?”

“I cannot guarantee they would never be noticed, but I would say the majority of the time this could be accomplished, yes. Who are you trying to reach?”

“I need to get a message to Alexius’s son, Felix.”

He nodded. “I assume you would like this done quickly?”

I smiled. “The quicker the better.”

“Then I will take it for you. I should mention that I may need to give the person some financial compensation for taking the risk.”

“Of course.” I fished my portable writing kit out of my coat and penned the note, thinking back with a pang about the kit I’d had when I left Ostwick, a gift from my former employer. It had gotten destroyed along with everything else at the Conclave, and its replacement was nowhere near as nice.

I handed him the note and enough coin to impress even the most greedy of couriers. “Give them half along with the note and the other half once they confirm it was delivered.”

“A wise precaution, Kai.”

I handed him another couple of silvers. “This is for you.  Thank you.”

“It is unnecessary. You offered me a place and a purpose when no other would.”

“Take it anyway. You might need it.”

He nodded again. “True. I thank you. Shall I return to tell you when it’s been done?”

I said, “Please.” As he left, I ordered another beer and settled in to await his return.

_=#=_

I sat in the threadbare armchair in my room at Redcliffe’s cheapest inn and wondered if I was wasting my time. It was late and Felix wasn’t well. He’d probably gone to bed hours ago. I wondered where Dorian was (in my mind we were already on a first name basis). _Probably fast asleep with his fabulously attractive mage girlfriend at his side,_ I told myself sourly. 

I saw a hint of movement and fired a small electric bolt at it, since casting fire in a wooden room was irresponsible. A cockroach expired with a popping sound as the electricity fried it. _He probably has children too._ I tried to picture the junior Pavuses, but they all had moustaches that curled at the tips — even the girls — which amused me even as I was trying to be cross.

There was a soft knock at the door.  I said, “Come,” and Felix entered, looking around the room with a bemused smile. He had dark circles under his eyes, but otherwise seemed to be holding up well.

“Lovely accommodations they’ve provided you,” he said.

“Nothing but the best for the so-called Herald,” I agreed.  I indicated the other armchair and cast some extra light. “Have a seat — I checked, and it is vermin-free, plus I ran a clean-up spell just in case. Thank you for coming.”

Casting a dubious glance at the chair, he sat. “How could I resist? A clandestine meeting with the leader of the Inquisition?”

“I hope I’m not causing you any trouble,” I said.

He smiled. “Are you referring to my health or my father?”

“Both, I suppose.”

“Well, don’t worry on either count. Father’s asleep, and I’m feeling well enough that I’m rather enjoying this.  If Father had his way, I’d be wrapped in fluffy blankets and transported everywhere by sedan chair until he cures me. I’d rather spend what time I have _living._ ”

“I don’t blame you. I’d feel the same way,” I said. I wondered what his illness was, but thought it would be rude to ask, especially when I was soliciting favours from him.

“So what was so urgent that you’d hide from your own people to talk to me?”

_Would that gorgeous mage friend of yours be interested if I let him know I am?_ “It has to do with your friend Dorian. Um. Lord Pavus? What should I call him?”

He smiled. “Dorian’s fine. What did you want to know?”

_Everything from his address to his favourite colour._ “While I enjoyed meeting him, I’m a bit baffled what he expects us to do. ‘I’ll be in touch’ is a marvellous exit line, but it doesn’t give me much to go on. I thought you and he may have discussed his plans.”

Felix chuckled. “He does love a good exit. I’ll have to get after him for leaving out something that important.” His expression turned serious. “I can tell you whatever happens, it needs to happen quickly. Father and the Venatori are gearing up for something big, and whatever it is, Dorian and I agree it’s going to be ugly if they’re not stopped.”

“That’s why he came all the way to Redcliffe?” _How old is he? Is he involved with anyone? What does he like to do for entertainment?_

“It’s one reason, yes.”

I wondered what the other reasons might be. “So as I said, do you have any idea what we’re expected to do? I can’t say I’m thrilled with the prospect of going all the way back to Haven just to turn around and return to Redcliffe.”

“That does seem counterproductive,” Felix agreed. “Can I get back to you in the morning?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll likely have to send you a note. I’m bound to be seen by someone if I chance sneaking out while Father’s up.”

“A note would be fine.”

 He looked around the room with a dubious frown. “You’re not actually _staying_ here, are you?”

I laughed. “No, it was just a good place to meet. None of my people would look for me here.”

“That suggests you trust me,” he said with a smile. 

“I see no reason not to,” I said. “You may be Tevinter, but I don’t think that makes you automatically evil.”

“I could have brought a squad of Venatori to kidnap you.”

“But _I_ contacted _you_. I’m also not without my own defenses.”

“Yes, Dorian said you’re quite powerful aside from that mark you use to close the rifts.”

_He was talking about me?_  “He noticed that, did he?”

“When it comes to magic, there’s little he doesn’t notice,” Felix said with a fond smile. “He also said the mark on your hand doesn’t seem tied to your magic at all?”

“That’s right.” I saw no reason to lie — Dorian had figured that out by simply paying attention. “It was the result of a magical accident, and I really don’t understand its mechanism. It seems to have its own private connection to the Fade.”

“So it chose you as its host?”

“An unsettling way to put it, but yes.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Not usually, no. It’s just…creepy.”

Felix smiled. “I must echo what Dorian said — you’re not at all what I expected.”

I grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” Internally I was reading all sorts of things into that statement. 

“It’s meant as one. You’re not the only one who may have had some preconceptions.”

“Then I celebrate the fact that we were all wrong. So…Dorian’s not staying at the castle with you, I assume?”

Felix shook his head. “Father can’t know he’s here. He knows Dorian would try to counter him, and Dorian’s one of the few who could.”

“What does he specialize in? Not time magic, hopefully.”

Felix chuckled. “No, though it’s nearly as unusual. Dorian’s a Necromancer, and a very gifted one at that.”

That did surprise me. Somehow you don’t look at Dorian and think of dead things. “Interesting. There are things I’d love to ask him.” _I’m a mage, so he should assume purely professional interest. Right?_

“I imagine it’s a specialty you see even less frequently down here?”

I snort-laughed. “Try never. It’s not a track the Chantry approved of and make no mistake, the Circles had to have Chantry approval every step of the way. Anyway…you’ll be seeing Dorian in the morning?” _Room for one more, perhaps?_

“We’re in communication. How about this: unless I send you a note telling you differently, try to stay in Redcliffe. That is, if you’ve decided to throw your lot in with us.”

“I’d say someone playing around with time magic is a little too important to ignore, though I’m sure some of my people have other ideas. I’ll see to it we’re available whenever Dorian’s ready.” _Or if he’d like to get together beforehand…maybe for a drink?_

Felix nodded. “Good. I’ll let him know and…thank you.”

“For what?”

“For believing us and understanding the seriousness of what Father and the Venatori are trying to do. We were concerned you wouldn’t agree to either.”

I shrugged. “I may be working for the Inquisition and taught by a Circle, but I _am_ a mage.  Thank _you_ for seeing me privately.”

Felix grinned. “Well, much as I hate to cut this mutual admiration society short, I’d best get back to the castle before someone misses me.  I hope you won’t have any trouble convincing your people to stay.”

“Just let Dorian know the sooner he gets in touch, the better.” I was sure my tone was businesslike enough that only I knew there was a double meaning to that sentence.

We bade one another good night. I waited a few minutes after Felix left then made my way back to the Gull and Lantern. I drank a few beers, ensuring people would remember my being there before returning to my room at the expensive inn for a few hours’ sleep.


	2. Future Legend

I managed to convince the others that the situation was serious enough we needed to stay in the area, though not everyone was happy that I was putting my faith in the word of a couple of suspect Vints.

My advisors showed up two days after my meeting with Felix, and the Chantry — either grateful we closed the rift in their building or impressed at the presence of the former Left and Right Hands of the Divine — lent us one of their properties to use as a temporary headquarters.

For another full day I had to listen to Cullen carrying on about how we should abandon the idea of getting the mages to work with us and see about enlisting the help of the Templars.  Over and over it was “I _know_ the Templars can do it, I _was_ one! The mages have proven they’re not trustworthy. We still have time to get the Templars on our side if we go meet with them _soon_!”

I maintained that not only were the mages more useful, but we needed to address whatever Alexius was up to. I could have added that, after eighteen years locked in a fucking Circle, I wasn’t about to go begging favours from a pile of Templars for _anything,_ let alone help with what was essentially a magical problem, but things hadn’t descended to that level yet.

While we were arguing in (ha-ha) circles, Alexius simplified things by sending us a note requesting a meeting with me up at the castle. It was obviously meant to be a trap, so I was inclined to indulge him (okay, to be honest, I thought just _maybe_ that would be enough to bring Dorian out from whatever woodwork he’d been hiding in).

While Cullen once again insisted we should give up on the mages and go to the Templars and Josie opined in her diplomatic way that we were fucked, Leliana actually came up with the seeds of a workable plan. Cullen objected again, no doubt with visions of Happy Helpful Templars dancing in his mind. He was pissing me off, but I was trying to remain diplomatic in my negative responses to him.

Leliana explained she knew of a secret tunnel originally built as an escape route for the royal family. I’d be capital as a distraction while she snuck agents into the castle where they could eliminate Alexius’s Venatori before he even knew what was happening. Denied that support, we should be able to take him down without difficulty. For a wonder, Cullen didn’t object. Perhaps he was just as annoyed with me, because suddenly he was all onside, saying, “It’s risky, but it could work.”

With impeccable timing, the door to our makeshift war room swung open and Dorian strode in saying, “Fortunately, you’ll have help.” He proceeded to tell everyone why he was indispensible and invited himself along. 

Attempting to hide my delight, I solemnly volunteered to play bait. I and a couple of my people (Sera and Blackwall were my choices) would go to this ‘meeting’ at the castle, where Dorian would show himself when the time was right. While we distracted Alexius (and who knew, maybe we could get him to stop whatever mad plan he was trying to launch), Leliana’s people would sneak in via the hidden tunnel, do their thing and we’d be done in time for afternoon tea.

Even though everyone else was happy with the plan (and I was happy for other reasons), Cullen — his earlier agreement apparently forgotten now that he was faced with the terrifying spectre of mages handling things — _still_ tried to suggest we might want to go to the Templars instead.  We ignored him.

Leliana sent a messenger to the castle agreeing to his meeting and set the plan in motion. A mere hour later, Sera, Blackwall and I marched into the throne room where Alexius was waiting, Felix standing off to one side.

At first our plan worked. We got him talking, Dorian stepped into the fray and both he and Felix lent their voices to those of us trying to dissuade Alexius. He was stubbornly refusing, going on about how the “elder one” was going to grant his wishes when it became a god, and the world would “bow before mages once more”. Delusional nonsense, but he was convinced. The elder one had promised Felix could be saved, and apparently all it would take was a small application of time magic. Oh, and killing me, of course, since I’d buggered the whole plan by getting the mark embedded in my left hand.

Well, our people killed his Venatori while he was carrying on, so when he grandly told them to seize us, there was no one to do the seizing. Alexius panicked and triggered his time spell at me, Dorian tried to stop it, and we both got sucked into the thwarted spell. I don’t want to go into painful detail, because that’s not what this memoir’s about, but we were thrown forward in time about a year into a possible future if this Elder One was allowed to have its way.

It wouldn’t turn out well. If the future were allowed to be written by the Elder One, Empress Celine of Orlais would be assassinated, triggering chaos in that country and paving the way for Alexius’s hero to invade the south with a literal demon army. The rifts would remain open and multiply, poisonous red lyrium would grow everywhere, massive numbers of people would die and the survivors would probably consider them lucky. The sky had also turned the same virulent green as the Fade (and the mark on my hand), which made everyone appear to have a sort of green-edged jaundice. It wasn’t a good look.

Obviously we couldn’t allow the nightmare future we’d landed in to ever come to fruition. All we had to do to avert it was find Alexius and use the amulet with which he manipulated time to return to our own, preferably the moment we’d gotten sucked into the vortex, then punch him in the head or whatever it took to stop him. Of course, that involved fighting our way through the Elder One’s forces to get to Alexius _and_ getting the amulet away from him. Easy, right?

While we were busy saving the world, I privately concluded that Dorian was quite possibly the most attractive man I’d ever met. By that I mean not just physically (though he certainly is), but in every other way too. He was clever and resourceful, quickly and calmly assessing the current situation and adapting to it without hesitation. He didn’t waste time panicking or pretending to abilities he didn’t possess. 

Magically he was every bit as powerful as I, and I found him remarkably easy to work with, matching and trading off our offensive and defensive spells with practiced ease (because we did run into significant opposition from demons and Venatori as expected). We were coordinating with one another as if we’d been working together for years, and much of that could be attributed to his ability to adapt and cooperate, for all that his flashier style made it appear he was grandstanding. He was generous sharing his knowledge of the time magic that had brought us there, something you can’t always count on with other mages.

I also appreciated that he was able to retain his sense of humour and his eye for the absurd throughout the whole ordeal.  Some people don’t appreciate sardonic observations when faced with murderous opponents and nightmare situations, but both of us did.

Sadly, we were so busy trying to stay alive and save the world from that future nightmare, we didn’t really have much opportunity to talk about anything but the situation at hand. All I could hope was he was at least half as impressed with me, because as a first date it left much to be desired.

Maker, that sounds shallow, doesn’t it? We were facing the end of the world, and I was hoping Dorian liked me. 

We managed to fight our way through to emerge victorious, and when we returned to the same moment Alexius had cast us from, he just… gave up. Which was nice, but I rather wished he’d done that without flinging us through time first. I instructed our guards to take him. We’d lock him up and decide what to do with him once we had some time to assess our options.

Once Alexius conceded defeat, things happened quickly. All our people, Fiona (the mage leader), Felix and members of the palace staff were still milling about the throne room when a squadron of soldiers in fancy dress came marching in with a flourish of brass instruments that were only a little off key. They were followed by King Alistair and Queen Anora of Denerim, who made a beeline for Fiona, telling her in no uncertain terms that she and the mages had overstepped and were no longer welcome in Redcliffe.

That gave me the chance to jump in and point out that the Inquisition just happened to still need the mages and she wasn’t likely to get a better offer from anyone else.

No doubt having noted the number of Chantry-attached people in our organization (as well as stupidly indenturing her people to Alexius), she was leery that we were going to similarly conscript them. Instead I offered to take them in as partners, with the same freedoms as anyone else in the Inquisition. I was sure Cullen and some others would have a cat about my decision, but I didn’t care. We were asking them for help, and I of anyone wasn’t about to deny mages the opportunity to determine their own destinies.

Fiona, not being _completely_ stupid, accepted my offer. We had our mages, and the mages had a safe place to live.

With disaster averted and my mission accomplished, I had some time to return to obsessing about Dorian. 

You see, once we’d wrapped up everything in Redcliffe, he did it to me again. I’d managed to get him alone for a few minutes and asked him, “So what are you planning now? Are you going back home with Felix?”

He’d smiled enigmatically and said, “I think not. I have some things I need to do, but I’ll be in touch.”

I had every intention of demanding some clarification this time, so naturally a page ran up saying my erstwhile advisors desperately needed me. All I had time to do was give him a stern look and say, “I’ll hold you to that.”

By the time I had a moment to myself again, he was gone.


	3. Fascination

I spent most of the journey back to Haven distant and preoccupied. I told the others it was due to the nightmare future we’d witnessed if the so-called ‘Elder One’ was allowed to win. It wasn’t, of course. It was one maddeningly elusive Tevinter mage who probably had a whole harem of comely Tevinter women at his beck and call. I couldn’t stop thinking about him, to the point where I was beginning to annoy myself. I replayed the time we spent together in that not-future, mining my memory for information. For all that he’d been talkative, when it came to anything personal, he hadn’t been very informative. Of course, neither had I. I could only hope he was being driven to similar distraction, though that was probably nothing but a self-indulgent fantasy.

My companions weren’t inclined to leave me alone to indulge my new obsession. My advisors wanted to talk about the nightmare future and discuss strategy for dealing with the threat. At the top of the agenda was averting the assassination of Empress Celene of Orlais, as we knew that was what started the Elder One’s rise to power. This meant Leliana in particular kept trying to talk to me about Orlais and the Empress Celene, trying to assess how much I knew and how much work she and Josephine might need to do to make me presentable to the Orlesian Court. Josie was more diplomatic, but wanted to know the same thing, and both kept making threatening noises about how much more appropriate it would be were I to unbend from my usual palette and inject some colour other than black into whatever I wound up wearing.

If it wasn’t the Orlesian angle, it was talk of the Elder One and his dreadful plans they wanted to discuss. Cullen, Cassandra and Blackwall all wanted to talk military ramifications and tactics, and they all pumped me for anything I could remember about how the assassination of Celene had been accomplished and what sort of time frame we were looking at. 

Given the limited amount of concrete information I could provide, the talk quickly shifted from real solutions to speculating. That didn’t stop them, unfortunately. They just wanted to go round endlessly about it all.

Everyone but Sera, I should say. She wanted desperately to deny that any of it happened, that that sort of magic was possible. Her conversation went in any direction but that, and I loved her for it. It was the only break I got from having to think about Elder Ones and closing rifts and all the rest of the shite it was my duty to deal with. We started becoming friends that journey, ironically because we were united in not wanting to talk about what had happened in Redcliffe and the political ramifications thereof.

I wasn’t aware how much speculating I was doing about Dorian until the day before we reached Haven. Sera and I were riding apart from the others, talking about random things. She looked over at me with a smirk.

“So, you’ve got it bad, yeah?”

I gave her a blank look. “Got what bad?”

She grinned. “You’ve got your knickers all in a twist about that pretty Vint mage.”

“What would possess you to think that?” I played dumb.

“Just every few minutes you find a way to bring him up, and it’s always with this daft, shiny look on your face.”

I wrinkled my nose at her. “Shiny? How does one look shiny?”

“ _You_ know. Your eyes get all big and hopeful and you look like a kid who’s thinking about holiday candy ‘cept it’s not sweets you want. Must get tough to ride at times, yeah?” She cackled.

“Think you’re pretty clever, don’t you?” I gave her a narrow look, but didn’t deny it.

“I know I am,” she said smugly. 

I sighed. “Fine. I’ll allow it could be that you’re correct.”

“Is there a reason you’re suddenly talking like you’re gonna lecture me about taxes?”

I smiled in spite of myself. “Alright, I admit it. I barely know the man and I’m mad about him.”

She grinned. “That’s grand. Didn’t know you went that way. Does he?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been trying to think if there’s anything he said or did that would indicate a preference.”

“Well, are you at least gonna see him again?”

“I don’t _know_. He said ‘I’ll be in touch’ and fucked off again. Didn’t even say a proper goodbye.” I didn’t bother trying to hide my frustration since she’d already figured me out.

“That’s bollocks. Is that some Vint thing, stringing along people you’re supposed to be mates with?”

“Who knows? I just know this is driving me round the bend, not knowing. Do you mind if I visit you here and there when we’re back at Haven? I need to talk to someone who doesn’t want to talk about Inquisition shite once in a while.”

She seemed a little surprised, but she smiled. “Sure, if you like.  Can’t be all aggro and end of the world _all_ the time. But what do I call you?”

“You could keep calling me Kai. That _is_ my name, after all.”

“Well, yeah, but you’re turning into one of the big hats. Aren’t you supposed to be all _Herald_ and _Your Lordship_ now that they don’t think you’re gonna scarper on them?”

I snorted. “I am not the bloody Herald of bloody Andraste and I haven’t been in the running to be lord of anything for over twenty years. It would make me very happy if at least one person would call me by my bloody name.”

“Guess that could make you a bit narked after a while.” She squinted at me. “Why me, though? I thought you’d be wanting to hang with all the nobs.”

“Why would you think that?”

“’Cause you talk all posh.”

I shrugged. “I read a lot. In the Circle there wasn’t much else to do but train and read.” 

“Yeah, but you were highborn. I hear things. Your dad’s the Bann of Ostwick, right? So you grew up all nobby and rich.”

“And that all ended when I was thirteen. They threw me in the Ostwick Circle and all I was there was another fucking mage the Templars had to keep an eye on and the Chantry would rather was dead. They made it very clear no matter what we were out in the world, another fucking mage was _all_ we were for the rest of our lives.”

“Yeah, but when you got out—”

“When I left there I lived in a shitty one-room flat in the wrong part of Ostwick. My parents did help me out a bit, but I’m not quite as posh as you think. Besides,” I gave her a smile. “You’re fun and you’re interesting even when you’re being impossibly stubborn. I prefer that to posh any day.”

She laughed and shook her head. “All right, Herald of No-One. You’re probably mad, but when you need to escape your oh so proper job, we can go have drinks.”

“I appreciate that, Sera,” I said.

“Doesn’t mean I’m best mates with you or even that I know if I like you, but you’re not bad…for a mage.”

“You’ll like me. I’m very likeable. And you’re not bad yourself…for an archer.”

She stuck her tongue out and made an accompanying “Pppbbthh” noise, but didn’t look unhappy. 

We rode in silence for a while, then she said, “So Kai…”

“Yeah?”

“How’re you gonna find your Vint if he doesn’t find you?”

I sighed. “I wish I knew.”

_=#=_

Three days later I was still wishing I knew.  We’d gone straight back into Inquisition business when we returned to Haven, which at that point meant organizing an expedition to Ferelden’s Storm Coast where there was a mercenary and his crew waiting for us. One of his lieutenants had shown up with an offer of their services, and for whatever reason, the leader wanted us to go to him. I would have been annoyed if there weren’t other things we needed to do there.

While we were organizing that, Leliana and Josie were looking into the Empress Celene problem. They’d come up with a way to get us near her, at least. She was going to hold a combination fete/peace summit to put an end to the civil war once and for all, and they were securing the Inquisition (that is, me and an entourage of our top people) invitations to the event. I already wasn’t looking forward to it.

The first order of business, though, was to close that massive breach still swirling above the ruined temple/fortress where Justinia had held her ill-fated Conclave. It wasn’t a place I wanted to return to, but now that we had our mages to help power my efforts, it was necessary. Besides, I’d been informed that until that breach was closed, the mark on my hand was working at killing me. We were just waiting for the mages to arrive, since coordinating the journey for that many people (I hadn’t counted, but there were dozens at the very least) then actually getting them to Haven was time consuming.

I was standing in the Chantry with my advisors. Cullen, predictably, was bitching about the mages that were soon to arrive — this time because I’d said to give them free run of the place. He was already populating Haven with abominations and clots of blood mages (sorry, I couldn’t resist) in his mind and I was getting bloody sick of it. Before I could say something cuttingly sarcastic that would no doubt escalate the disagreement, Cassandra told him while she didn’t necessarily agree with my decision she supported it, and proceeded to talk practically about getting sufficient lyrium shipped in for that many mages.

I’d been thinking snotty retorts at Cullen when I heard a voice I would never forget. “The voice of pragmatism speaks! And here I was just starting to enjoy the circular arguments.”

Dorian was standing nonchalantly in the doorway wearing that strappy armour he favoured. He had an expression of mild amusement and didn’t look in the least like he’d been travelling for days even though he must have.

I know I had a big, goofy smile on my face, but I couldn’t seem to get it under control. 

Cass was saying something about closing the breach being all that mattered, which led to more back and forth about the lyrium. I offered an opinion, but damned if I remember what it was. Probably that we needed more.

Leliana interjected, “Lord Pavus, while you are here, we should look into the things you saw in this ‘dark future’. The assassination of Empress Celene? A demon army?”

“Sounds like something a Tevinter cult might do,” Dorian said. “Orlais falls. The Imperium rises. Chaos for everyone!”

“Only if you can sufficiently control your demon army,” I said.

“Well, yes, that can be problematic,” Dorian admitted. “However, I’d be the first to tell you some of our more enthusiastic fanatics don’t always plan ahead.”

“Let’s take this to the war room,” Cullen said, urging me to join them (like they hadn’t already been dissecting it incessantly for days). “We should discuss that future again, and go over the mission to close the Breach.”

I said, “And I’d hoped to sit out the assault on the Breach. Take a nap. Maybe go for a walk…”

Cullen rolled his eyes, but at least looked good natured about it.

I continued, “Seriously, I think we’ve covered all we need for the time being. We just need the mages to arrive. Until then we’re just rehashing.”

Cullen turned to Dorian. “Unless Lord Pavus would like to add anything?”

Dorian smiled. “I’ll skip the war council, but I would like to see this Breach up close, if you don’t mind?”

My goofy smile returned. I didn’t try to stop it. “Then you’re…staying?”

“Oh, didn’t I mention? The South is so rustic and charming. I adore it to little pieces,” he quipped.

“There’s no one I’d rather be stranded in time with, future or present.” I was going for equally light in my delivery, but I probably came across as syrupy, if not downright besotted.

“Excellent! But let’s not get ‘stranded’ again anytime soon, yes?” Dorian replied.

“Agreed.” I looked at my advisors. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve a few questions for — what do I call you? Lord Pavus?”

“Dorian will do,” he said.

“Dorian, then.” I smiled at him and returned my attention to the others.

“But Herald, we still have strategy to discuss,” Cullen said.

“You go right ahead, Commander. I believe my time would be better spent discussing said dark future with Dorian to see if there’s anything he’d be able to add that I may have forgotten. It will be more efficient if he and I compare notes first. If we find anything we can bring it to you.”

“Of course, Herald,” Leliana said smoothly, cutting off Cullen’s inevitable objection. “We can reconvene later. In the meantime we do have some logistical nightmares to contend with in housing all the mages once they arrive.”

I nodded to them and joined Dorian in the doorway. “So, care to answer a few questions?”

He grinned. “A one-on-one interrogation? How could I possibly refuse?”

I gave him a half smile back. “I don’t suppose you can. If you’d accompany me?” I started walking and he fell in beside me.

We didn’t talk much until we reached my destination. He raised an eyebrow as we entered, “The pub?”

“Neutral territory,” I replied. “And I’d rather talk over a drink. What would you like, keeping in mind the rusticity of this place isn’t merely cosmetic?”

He opted for white wine (“If they have such an exotic potable”). I ordered a beer for myself and, once fortified, we took a table in the back corner where we’d be unlikely to be disturbed. I cast a privacy spell around us to ensure eavesdroppers would be doomed to disappointment.

He gave me a small, ironic toast and took a sip of his drink. “You’re a most surprising man, Kai Trevelyan.”

I grinned. “How so? I’m impressed you even remembered my last name.”

“No more impressive than your remembering mine, is it?” 

“My last name has more syllables.”

“But mine has more syllables over all. The Chantry doesn’t mind your interviewing possible enemies in the local pub?”

“What makes you believe the Chantry has any input?”

“I thought this Inquisition of yours was under the aegis of the Chantry, Herald of Andraste.”

I sighed. “Let me make one thing perfectly clear, Dorian. I am not the Herald of bloody Andraste. They’re using the fact that some of the devout have gotten that idea in their heads to drum up support for the Inquisition. I was not consulted in the matter, and every time I’ve objected, I‘ve been overruled. Secondly, one of the first things the Chantry did was denounce us, so no, they have no aegis over us. Oh, and it’s not _my_ Inquisition.”

He smiled. “I stand corrected. There _are_ an awful lot of Chantry sorts running about, you must admit.”

“I know. I try to avoid them as much as possible.”

“Why Kai, the next thing you’ll be telling me you’re not even a believer.”

“Not in the Chantry’s version of the universe, no.”

“I thought in these parts that was practically a requirement. I gather you don’t see eye to eye?” 

I shrugged. “As a mage, they’ve never liked me. I’m simply returning the sentiment.”

“You were a Circle mage?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said shortly. “You know, I’m supposed to be asking _you_ questions.”

“Of course. You may ask away — I’m an open book.”

I snorted, but smiled at him. “An open book written entirely in code, perhaps.”

“Just waiting for a dashing southern mage to decipher me,” he said in a sultry tone then grinned. “A mage _not_ affiliated with the Chantry. It does explain your policy of freedom for the mages, though. I thought to myself when I was travelling here, _Freedom for mages? What next? Elves running Halamshiral? Cows milking farmers?”_

I raised an eyebrow. “You don’t approve?”

“On the contrary — I approve heartily. I do wonder if you’ve considered what this support of yours will do — for mages in general, I mean. The Inquisition is seen as an authority. You’ve given Southern mages license to, well, be like mages back home.”

I said, “If that means they’re anything like you, I approve.”

“Ha! There aren’t many mages back home like me,” he replied.

“I believe that.”

“I never fit in,” he said mournfully. “Blood stains are so difficult to clean, you see.” 

“I suppose you could go with a primarily red/brown wardrobe, but the smell…”

He gave a surprised little laugh. “A Circle mage joking about blood magic?”

“I never said I was _still_ a Circle mage. I didn’t have a choice in the matter for a very long time,” I said with a scowl I couldn’t quite hide and changed the subject. “You don’t indulge in blood magic yourself, then?”

His expression hardened. “No. Contrary to the stereotype, not all of us do. A great many of us want nothing to do with blood magic. It’s far too easily abused. Because of that, it becomes a refuge for the weak and venal.”

“Fair enough.” I seemed to have hit a sore point. Well, he’d hit one of mine with the Circle mage stuff, so I supposed we were even. “From what I saw, you don’t need it anyway. You’re damned good.”

He gave me an immediate, genuine smile. “Yes, I am. I’m sure I sound egotistical agreeing with you so readily, but I’ve put a great deal of time and effort into getting this good and see no point in dissembling. It would be as unthinkable as protesting that I’m unattractive.”

“Unthinkable, and so clearly untrue,” I agreed. He was still smiling, but I didn’t know if that constituted flirting. Perhaps people told him that all the time. I took a drink and was slightly surprised to find my mug nearly empty. I signalled for another round.

Dorian said, “I noted you’re quite accomplished magically yourself, entirely aside from that mark.”

I grinned. “Well, if you’re not going to dissemble, I see no reason why I should. I _am_ accomplished magically, or at least as much as they allowed in the Circles. I’m sure there are great swaths they weren’t allowed or inclined to teach us.”

He raised an eyebrow, nodding his thanks as the serving girl gave him his wine with a bright smile. “Do I sense a touch of resentment there?”

“A great deal more than a touch. It’s a long story.”

“Really? I adore long stories.” He gave me a look that could be either mischievous or sultry. “Perhaps one day you’ll tell me.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps you’ll have a tale or two to impart in return?” I gave him what I hoped was the same sort of look back. 

“Hm. I do know a thing or two about tales.” His eyes were sparkling now.

I got the double entendre then hoped he meant it as one. I’d never been so aware of how unskilled I was at flirting. I took refuge in talking about something I did know — magic. “Some of the spells you were using were unfamiliar. Were they necromantic?”

“You knew I’m a Necromancer?” He appeared surprised.

I grinned. “Felix told me.  I’m sure he told you we talked.”

“He may have mentioned that. Something about you not being impressed with my parting line?”

“The line would’ve been fine if you’d included an itinerary with it. My people were not happy to be waiting in Redcliffe for something that would happen ‘soon’.”

He smiled ruefully. “At the risk of you realizing I’m not as brilliant as you undoubtedly think, I was vague because I wasn’t sure how I was going to be able to get the Inquisition into the castle without alerting Alexius. Fortunately he took care of that detail for us.”

I nodded and said, “So — Necromancy?”

“Indeed. You’re looking at one of the most skilled Necromancers in Tevinter.” There was honest pride in his statement.

“Isn’t that unusual outside of Nevarra?”

He grinned. “Very, but I showed a natural affinity for it from the time I was very young. It was also more challenging than some of the more conventional disciplines. I was a prodigy.”

“I came to my magic rather late, but I was something of one too,” I said with a smile. “I’m envious. Necromancy was one of those disciplines the Circles wouldn’t touch.”

“Yet it seems they’re fine with teaching you combat magic,” Dorian observed.

“So that we could leap to the country’s defense should we be needed.  After which we were supposed to go meekly back to our prisons, of course.”

Dorian shook his head. “I can understand your resentment. So am I correct that the mark has nothing to do with your magic?”

I studied my hand reflexively. “It seems to have increased my power a little, and I haven’t needed lyrium since I got it. It seems to have its own private connection to the Fade, so I imagine the power boost is a side effect of that.”

“Interesting. But you don’t actually cast anything to make it work?”

It was my turn to shake my head. “I don’t do shite, which is more than a little disconcerting. I just point and think. It leads its own, nasty little life in my hand. I think it would do that even if I didn’t possess one whit of magical talent.”

He looked down at my left hand then back to my eyes. “May I?”

I offered my hand up, saying, “Go right ahead. Tell me if you see something I haven’t.”

He said, “Thank you,” and took my hand, looking intently at the mark.

I’ll admit it — I was gleeful that he was holding my hand, even if it was for completely unromantic reasons — I was that stupidly smitten with him. His fingers were warm and strong, but he traced around the perimeter of the mark with delicate precision.  He had the hands of an artist, which, magically speaking, he was.

He looked up at me with those riveting grey eyes. “I’ve never seen the like. And it was a misfired spell? Does it hurt?” He still had my hand in his.

“It doesn’t hurt, but it feels…strange. An almost electrical tingling. It gets more pronounced when it’s reacting to outside stimuli — sometimes I can feel it up into my wrist. It’s…worrisome, particularly as I’m left handed.”

“Fascinating,” was his judgment. “Do you mind telling me how it happened?”

So I told him what I remembered of it, including the part where I awoke in the Fade and had my bracing run from giant Fade spiders, finally to be given a hand out by some sort of glowing female spirit who caused everyone to think I’d been marked and Chosen by Andraste.

He asked intelligent, insightful questions, and for the first time since I’d gotten stuck with the mark, I found myself enjoying discussing the whole debacle as we batted ideas on the magical theory behind it back and forth. As time passed, our conversation meandered from the mark to magical theory in general and then just anything that came to mind. I couldn’t believe how effortless it was, and how quickly we understood one another regardless of the subject. I honestly don’t even remember everything we talked about. I just remember I didn’t want to stop.

Therefore it was completely jarring when a young squire came up and said apologetically, “Herald? Uhm, I’m sorry, but they asked me to find you. They need you in the war room.”

I reminded myself the girl was just delivering a message, and managed to sound mostly pleasant when I thanked her and sent her off with the message I’d be there shortly.

“Oh dear, I seem to have coopted too much of your time. I’m afraid my effervescent personality does have that effect on people,” Dorian said with a cheeky grin.

“I’ll make sure to put the blame solely on your effervescence,” I retorted. “Do you have quarters yet?”

He said he didn’t and I told him the cabin next to the alchemist’s was empty.

“You’re sure no one will mind you handing me an entire cabin?”

I smirked. “You’re a Vint and a mage and therefore suspect in the eyes of the good people here in the South. I’d be remiss not to put you somewhere where we could easily keep an eye on you.”

“By that line of thought, wouldn’t the barracks surrounded by your soldiers be more secure?”

“Certainly not. You could have some underhanded Vint spell that would sway them all into your service. Much better to keep you isolated but visible. I may, of course, drop in on you at any moment. Just to check on your activities.”

“Ah. Very strategic of you,” Dorian said sagely. “Then I believe I shall move myself into said cabin, where you can keep an eye on me. At least you can feel secure in the knowledge that I’m aesthetically pleasing.”

“Make sure you stay that way,” I admonished him as I rose. “We’ll continue this conversation. I’m not yet done interrogating you.” We hadn’t actually discussed the nightmare future we saw at all.

“Of course. I am at your disposal,” Dorian said.

I stalked to the war room to find out what was so bloody important.


	4. Scary Monsters

If I’d had my way, I would have spent most of my waking moments around Dorian. I was still trying to decide if he was interested. He was definitely flirting with me, but on further observation, he seemed to flirt with _everyone_. I attempted to gauge the _degree_ of flirtation I saw with others compared to myself, but didn’t have enough time to make an accurate assessment because the day after Dorian arrived, so did the mages.

I delegated as much as I could, but I had to be there to greet them and oversee getting them settled in their new quarters. I also had to contend with nervous mages, nervous ex-Templars, nervous Chantry personnel, nervous civilians and my own advisors, not all of whom were being calm and sensible about everything. They all seemed to need the personal assurances of the Herald of Bloody Andraste. I think it helped that I’m a mage, as they’d seen that in all the time I’d been there I hadn’t ever turned into an abomination or done even one little blood sacrifice.

To my mind, all the hand-holding I’d had to do gave me a perfect excuse to skulk over to Dorian’s cabin the next night. I saw a low but steady light in the cabin that told me it was magically generated and likely meant he was awake. I was already wearing black (of course), but I cast a _don’t notice me_ spell anyway and knocked softly on his door.

He opened it and grinned. “Kai? Is that an obscurement spell I see? Are you _sneaking_?”

“Yes. May I come in?” He waved me in and closed the door.

“To what do I owe this clandestine visitation?” He gestured to the room’s one chair and sat on his bed.

I tried to look desperate as I sat down with a thud. “Can I hide here for a bit? I need to be around at least one person who understands.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh? I understand a great many things. In what area do you find my understanding superior to all others?”

“You’re the only mage here who’s at my level of power and experience _and_ has had to put up with histrionics from practically everyone, though in your case it’s due to your country of origin.”

“The _only_ mage? What about Solas?”

I snorted. “Have you talked to him? If it’s not about the bloody Fade he doesn’t want to hear it. Actually, he just wants _you_ to hear _him_ , I should say.”

Dorian smiled. “Ah, so he does that to everyone? I thought perhaps it’s because I’m Tevinter and he didn’t want to give up any southern secrets.”

“No, he’s just obsessed. I’m well acquainted with the Fade, thank you. It’s interesting, but not _that_ interesting.”

“So tell me, who’s having histrionics?”

I sighed. “Who isn’t? The mages are worried about all the former templars and Chantry here. The former templars — including bloody Cullen — are all convinced we’re going to have an outbreak of either blood magic or abominations at any moment. The Chantry agree with the templars but do more mumbling about apostates. They approach me the least, for obvious reasons, but Mother bloody Giselle certainly isn’t afraid to pester me _and_ send other people to me.”

“You poor thing. I take it that’s why you’ve been scarce?”

“You have no idea,” I said with a groan.

He gave me an incredulous look. “And yet a moment ago I was the only one who understood.”

“Sorry.” I smiled and shook my head. “I barely know what I’m saying anymore.  If I haven’t been reassuring people, I’ve had to help stop fights breaking out between the mages and templars. It’s like babysitting feral cats.”

“Why don’t you take your coat off and stay a bit?” Dorian said. “I’m guessing you might be in the mood for a drink at this point?”

“You are not only attractive, but brilliant.” I shrugged out of my coat and stretched until my shoulders crackled. 

“And you are both observant and accurate,” he replied with a smirk. “I’m expecting it would be safest were I to fetch the potables without anyone becoming aware of your location?”

“You expect correctly. Andraste’s tits, no one mentioned how much of leading is hand-holding and assuring the children it will all be okay if they’ll just do as they’re told.”

He laughed and said, “What shall I bring you?”

“Beer. More than one, preferably. They’ve got some in bottles behind the counter and don’t let them tell you they don’t.”

“Beer? Really?” He looked a little unimpressed.

“Yes, really. I like it, and it doesn’t get you drunk as quickly as hard liquor.”

“Beer it is, then.” He slipped out the door.

I took the opportunity to hang up my coat properly and have a look around the cabin. He hadn’t added a great deal to it — honestly, he hadn’t had time — but there was a trunk that likely contained his personal belongings, a grooming kit, his staff propped in one corner, and a small stack of books. He’d spelled a couple of glass globes to provide clean, steady light.

I rubbed my eyes until they watered and tried to think of something clever and perhaps a little suggestive to say, but all I could hear in my mind was the endless complaining I’d put up with all day. I was wiping my eyes when Dorian came back in carrying a bag that proved to contain half a dozen bottles of beer and one of wine.

“Oh dear, have they driven you to tears?” he asked with exaggerated concern.

I chuckled. “No, though not for lack of trying. My eyes are just dry. I blame it on the climate.”

He handed me a beer. I uncorked it and cooled it with a spell.

“You mean you don’t consider the air in this icebox bracing?” He sat on the bed and uncorked his wine. “ _Venhedis._ Forgot a glass. Will you think less of me if I drink from the bottle?”

“I shall hold you in the same high esteem,” I assured him. “I won’t even tell anyone you descended to such barbaric levels. And no, I don’t like this weather. I’m from Ostwick — our winters don’t last anywhere near this long and involve much less snow and possibility of freezing to death.”

“I am doubly reassured.” He sat against the headboard, using his pillow for padding, his legs crossed at the ankle. He gestured with the wine bottle. “Are you sure you don’t want any? It’s pedestrian, but drinkable.”

I shook my head. “Sorry, can’t stand the stuff.”

He looked honestly surprised. “You mean that? I don’t know that I’ve ever heard anyone admit such a thing. You would scandalize nearly every dinner party I’ve ever attended.”

“Then it’s probably a good thing I haven’t attended many dinner parties,” I said with a grin. “I mean it. I hate the taste of every wine I’ve had the misfortune of trying.”

He cocked his head to the right, a slight smile on his lips. “You’re a rather fascinating man, Kai Trevelyan.”

“If I’d known admitting I dislike wine makes me fascinating, I would have told you sooner.”

“Oh, it’s not just that. It’s all manner of things. You can put your feet up if you like.”

“Shouldn’t I take my boots off?”

He shrugged. “It’s not _my_ bed. As long as they’re dry and relatively clean, I’m sure they wouldn’t affect this exquisitely rustic bedding too terribly much.”

I left them on in case my feet smelled. I didn’t think he’d find that fascinating. “So what manner of things led you to your conclusion?”

He took a sip of wine and favoured me with a somewhat wider smile. “Well, for one: Did you know we’re actually related?”

“Related?” I echoed, swallowing beer. For the first time that day I was starting to feel relaxed.

“Oh, not first cousins or anything like that. Can you imagine? You’re a Trevelyan, however, and somewhere in the dank nethers of my family tree, there was also a Trevelyan. Perhaps he was even the one who ventured to Ostwick to establish the branch? We are talking long ago, of course.”

I squinted at him. “You know that off the top of your head?”

“Not the top. Maybe the lower middle or thereabouts. Bloodlines are serious business in Tevinter. You’re taught lessons and tested…by strict nannies. I heard your family mentioned, and I had to go through all the old mnemonics. But yes — there it is. I knew there was a reason we looked so much alike.”

I laughed. “I’ve never been terribly concerned about the bloodline business.” 

“Even saying that back home would give Mother the vapours.” He paused to take another sip. “Which makes an excellent reason to say it. Black sheep have all the fun.”

I gestured at my clothing. “Well, I’ve certainly got the black part covered. With all due respect to your mother’s sensibilities, once I was taken to the Circle, bloodlines were no longer a consideration.”

He frowned. “I suppose locking one away for life does preclude effectively carrying on the family name, doesn’t it.”

I made a noise of agreement. “I’ll tell you about it sometime. Right now I’m in no mood to dive into that cistern.”

“Understood. I make it a rule to limit cistern-diving at any rate. It wreaks havoc on one’s complexion and can destroy a careful coiffure in moments.”

“Yes, it’s that last in particular that concerns me,” I deadpanned, running a hand over my shaved head. I downed a few swallows of beer and decided to take a small conversational chance. “Still, I’d rather we weren’t related. That might make flirting awkward.”

He grinned, which I took to be a positive sign. “Depends on which branch of the family you come from. Regardless, I think we’re still good to go — by at least three ages.”

“That’s reassuring. Are these quarters okay? Not that we have anything better to offer,” I amended.

“What they lack in grandeur they make up for in providing some privacy. Not that I dislike most of my fellow men and women, but — well, actually it’s precisely that.”

“Then I should apologize for disturbing you,” I said with a look of concern.

“Oh, I just dislike them as a group,” he said with a smile. “Allowances can be made for individuals, particularly if they interest me in some way.”

“And did you mean it about my being rather fascinating, or did you feel duty bound to allow me in because of my vaunted position here?” I said it teasingly, but there was a small, insecure part of me that truly wondered.

“Whyever would I say it if I didn’t mean it?”

“You could have just been buttering me up.”

He smirked. “Now there’s an interesting turn of phrase. Wouldn’t you like to know the story behind its entrance into the common vernacular?”

I laughed. “Sadly, it’s probably much less interesting than what one can imagine.” 

He gave me an exaggerated leer. “True. I do have a very vivid imagination.”

“Oh?  Now that you’ve made that claim, I may have to verify it,” I said. “Can’t have it bandied about that I’m shirking my interrogatory duties.”

“Yes, as head of the Inquisition you must be properly inquisitive,” he said gravely.

I swallowed beer and ventured, “So…I suppose you’ll be in a hurry to get back to Tevinter once the Breach is closed?”

He fiddled with his moustache, checking the tips to make sure they were still pointy. “Not necessarily. The Venatori presence down here won’t evaporate with the Breach, and I feel something of a vested interest in ensuring they aren’t allowed a foothold. What they have in mind would be detrimental to my country as well as yours.”

I nodded. “I think the Inquisition will be your greatest ally in hunting them down and removing them.”

He raised an eyebrow. “The Inquisition or you?”

I took a drink a beer and said blandly, “Does it matter?”

“I suppose not. I also agree — the chances of the more conventional ruling bodies of the South listening to a Tevinter mage about anything are probably between slim and none.”

I made a noise of agreement and said, “Don’t feel bad — the Inquisition didn’t want to listen to me at first either. They had no choice because I’m the only one who can close the bloody rifts. It was a surprise to all of us when it turned out I’m not bad at running this thing. Mind you, much of effective leading is getting good people in with you and not being shy about delegating. Those people were part of this before I came along, so I let them do the bulk of the day to day work.”

“I did wonder how the southern Chantry could possibly allow a mage so much power and autonomy. I assumed you must be a true believer of the highest calibre to pull that off.”

“I’m sure that would have made them happier. Instead they got a non-believing apostate who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” I yawned, covering my mouth.

“Or the right place at the right time,” Dorian corrected. “It may be that a non-believing apostate was exactly what the Inquisition needed. Kept it from getting too full of itself.”

I chuckled. “Thank you for the vote of confidence.” I yawned again despite my attempt to stifle it. “Now that the mages are here, I imagine they won’t want to waste any time getting that breach closed.”

“Then shouldn’t you get some sleep?”

I nodded reluctantly. “Yes. But this is…nice. I _am_ sorry I intruded on you.”

“Well, I’m not.” He smiled as he rose from the bed. “I’ve enjoyed this too. But we’d best get you back to your quarters. You can just _imagine_ the scandal if they found Andraste’s Chosen bunking with a Vint.”

“I’d be willing to take that chance,” I said, fatigue and alcohol making me a little more blunt than I’d intended.

He gave me an enigmatic look. “Would you, now?” He took my coat off its peg by the door and handed it to me. “Right now I suspect you need sleep more. Let’s get you home, shall we?”

I yawned again, not sure whether to feel embarrassed or disappointed, and stood with a grunt of effort. “Not really home, is it. It’s a cabin on a mountain. I never wanted to live in a cabin on a mountain.”

“It was never a desire of mine, either, yet here we are,” Dorian said with a smile.

I killed the last of my beer. “I don’t _actually_ live _anywhere_. I gave my place up when I left for the Conclave. Not that it was anything to write home about, but still.”

“So we are equally adrift. Do you want to take those last bottles with you?”

“Yes.” I was very sure about that, since I wasn’t being allowed to scandalize Haven by staying with Dorian, who was putting on his own coat.

“You’re coming with me?” I felt an absurd surge of…something between hope and lust.

“Just to make sure you successfully make it back to your quarters. Like it or not, even an apostate Herald has an image to uphold.”

I made a skeptical noise but allowed him to accompany me back to my quarters. He bade me good night at the door, all very properly. I leaned against the frame for a few moments, watching him until he disappeared in the dark of the night. 

With a sigh I closed the door, lighting the fire with a thought, and opened one last beer. As I got undressed for bed, I ran the evening over in my mind. It was frustrating — I was sure I wasn’t imagining his being interested in more than a platonic sense, but he kept things just questionable enough that I hesitated to come out and say something in case I found out I was dead wrong. Finally I took care of the physical manifestation of that frustration and went to sleep feeling lonely and unsatisfied. 

_=#=_

I was awakened far too early for my tastes by someone banging on the door. I hollered “What?” and unwarded it. The same elven woman I’d scared when I first woke in Haven took a timid step into the cabin and said, “Begging your pardon, Your Worship, but Sister Nightingale sent me. You’re to meet them in the War Room in half an hour and she thought you’d want time to wake up first.”

I sighed and sat up. “Understood. You may let them know I’ll be there.” 

She _Your Worship_ ped her way out the door. I pulled on my clothes and went in search of coffee, squinting in the bright morning sunlight. At the appointed time I entered the War Room, container of coffee firmly in hand. The others were already there, looking far too enthused.

“Good morning, Herald,” Josephine said brightly.

“Could we please dispense with _Herald_ when it’s just us?” I groused.

They didn’t answer. Instead, Cullen said, “The mages say they’re prepared. We can close the Breach if you’re ready.”

“I suppose now’s as good a time as any,” I agreed. “Tell me when it’s time to go. I’m going to get some breakfast.” Sometimes rank does have its privileges — at least I didn’t have to be present while they wrangled the assorted troops and mages into travelling formation.

A few hours later we arrived at the ruined fortress. I’d rather hoped to chat with Dorian on the way there, but he’d ridden back with Sera, Varric and Blackwall while I rode at the front next to Cassandra as Fearless Leader. Solas was just behind us, looking out of place on his horse. Maybe it was his continued insistence on eschewing footwear. Even though he could cast sustained heat spells, I thought the whole ‘barefoot elf’ thing was rather twee at the best of times.

As we dismounted and picked our way through the ruins to the epicenter where the Breach roiled, the mark on my hand began tingling and spitting green light, getting brighter and more bothersome as we walked. I studied it with mild dread, wondering what it was doing to my dominant hand.

“I see what you mean about its activity levels,” Dorian said as he caught up with me. Cassandra gave us both a dirty look.

“Yeah, it just loves that bloody great thing,” I said, sparing a sour glance up at the Breach. “Hopefully this works.”

“So if I understand correctly, you’ll just be acting as a conduit for all that power?”

I gave him a crooked smile. “Yes. Years of intensive magical training, and all I’m apparently good for is channelling power to some sort of arcane parasite.”

“I take it no one really knows if this will work,” he said, matching my smile.

I shrugged. “Solas thinks it will.  Since he’s Ser Fade, I suppose he’s the closest thing to an authority we have.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I intend to do my part and lend my power to you as well.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that,” I said, and before we could continue our conversation we reached the epicenter. I gave him another smile. “Well, here goes nothing.”

I stepped forward as Solas instructed the mages to focus past me and let my will draw from them. I approached the swirling nexus of the Breach. The power of it reacted with the mark, which was spitting out steady streams and sparks of green light. That electric tingling I mentioned was racing around my hand and wrist, and I could feel it right up my forearm, just a small order of magnitude away from being painful. One of the mages gave the signal and they all started channelling their power to me. I took it in and let it pass straight through to the mark (I could get more technical about how that worked, but believe me, it would be unspeakably dull). 

The mark did whatever it did, and a great gout of pure power streamed out of it and up to the roiling centre of the Breach, which resisted for a short time, then imploded. The shockwave knocked me flat on my arse, but I didn’t feel bad because it did that to every single soul in the area, even Solas. I got up slowly and Cassandra gave me a congratulatory clap on the back, saying “You did it” as a collective cheer went up.

It was a much more relaxed and talkative ride back. I took advantage of the cheerful chaos to drop my horse back to ride in between Dorian — who was enthusiastically theorizing on what just happened in between pithy remarks about people’s dreadful lack of any fashion sense — and Sera, who was just delighted the wound in the sky was closed.

When we returned, the celebrations started in earnest. People were literally dancing in the streets of the village, but I felt unsettled, like it had been too easy and something dreadful was bound to happen. I’d been telling myself that was purely because I was worrying now that the Breach was no more, Dorian would want to go back to Tevinter, but really it was both feelings combining so instead of joining in, I was standing on the stone plaza above the village proper, staring out at the night-shrouded mountain. Cassandra was there too, though I doubt she was wondering how long it would take Dorian to finish washing up and join us.

Cassandra was telling me Solas had confirmed the sky was scarred, but the Breach was definitely closed. She’d just finished saying it was a victory when we saw the lights on the mountain. The next moment the alarm bells started sounding and Cullen was shouting that there was a force approaching. It seemed my premonition was true. I just hoped the one about Dorian wasn’t.

I shan’t go into a great deal of detail about what happened next, as it’s already been written elsewhere and better. So in brief: We ran to the gates, where a skinny, blonde young man named Cole — wearing the biggest-brimmed hat I’ve ever seen — had shown up to tell us the red templars were attacking. They were the shock troops of the infamous Elder One, who was apparently sufficiently pissed off at me for buggering up his plan and taking his mages that he’d come to personally make me dead.

We found out shortly that he’d also brought his pet dragon along. It set half the bloody village on fire and we had to engage in a running battle with his red templars — who had been turned monstrous and powerful by ingesting red lyrium — to get everyone into the Chantry, which would afford more protection than any other building. 

Dorian joined in the fight without any hesitation, and once again the two of us found our combat styles meshing effortlessly. We managed to save almost everyone aside from the initial casualties from the dragon’s surprise attack, though Brother Roderick of the Chantry — who couldn’t stand me even though I’d never done a thing to him — got mortally wounded.

Our remarkably well-informed new friend Cole let us know the Elder One wanted me and me alone, and would continue attacking until he got his way. So all I had to do was hand myself over to him to make it all stop. Lovely. Still, we came up with a plan, thanks to Roderick remembering an underground escape route from Haven. All we had to do was set up one trebuchet, then hope I’d have time to trigger the thing and somehow escape the Elder One’s clutches.

We sent everyone to fleeing while I and a few others (I was gratified that Dorian insisted he be one of them) went to ready our sort-of trap. Once the trebuchet was ready, I sent the others on.

Dorian suggested he stay with me, but I insisted I couldn’t concentrate unless I knew he was going to be safe, “and afterwards, we’re going to talk,” I warned him.

“I’ll be delighted to,” he assured me. I thought for a moment he might actually kiss me. He’d gone so far as to take my hands and then the bloody dragon came screaming down from the sky breathing fire and Dorian had to run. I didn’t know whether to be elated or terrified as I got knocked on my arse again by the shockwave from the explosion of flame, so I settled on angry. Over the years I’d gotten very good at angry.

Well, the so-called Elder One had a name: Corypheus. He was literally big, bad, and ugly — an ancient Tevinter Magister/priest who’d somehow figured out how to live forever, or close enough to it. He had a grandly sonorous voice just _made_ for over the top villainy, but whatever looks he may have had he’d compromised badly. He’d disfigured himself with what appeared to be random spikes and chunks of red lyrium which were growing out of his body; in some places it looked like he’d stretched his old skin over top of the lyrium growths and reattached it. I don’t know if he was always a big bastard or if it was a side effect of the volatile mix of red lyrium and whatever demented spells he’d used to make himself immortal, but he had to be at least eight feet tall.

He should have scared me, but all he did was piss me off.

He tried to rip the mark (which he called the Anchor) out of my hand magically, but it apparently had decided it liked its new home, so all that happened was it hurt and made me feel sick. Oh, and it predictably enraged Corypheus.

He bitched at me in a grandly villainous manner for fucking up his plans to invade the Fade itself and take the empty throne in the Black City as his own, thus becoming a god. Then he picked me up by one arm, introducing me first hand to his incredible halitosis as he continued to bitch, and flung me crashing into the trebuchet’s platform. That also hurt, but it was where I needed to be. I grabbed the sword we had set there just in case and, as Corypheus announced I must die, told him he was an asshole and kicked the stay on the firing mechanism.

The trebuchet did its job successfully, sending its payload into the snow-laden mountainside above the village. Soon an avalanche would bury the entire bloody place.  Realizing not even its master could get out of that easily if he did survive, the dragon grabbed Corypheus and flew away. I hadn’t wasted time wondering what they were going to do. The moment the machine fired I literally ran for my life.

I was already sore and winded and whatever he’d done trying to get the Anchor out of me seemed to have buggered up my ability to cast properly. Just to add to the fun, the increasing volume of the avalanche suggested it was moving faster than I could. Then my headlong sprint to the underground passages came to an abrupt halt as I ran across some boards that proved to be rotten. I crashed through and found the underworld the hard way by plummeting into it. I tried to roll, but ended up landing almost flat on my back. It knocked all the wind out of me and may have knocked me out for a few seconds.


	5. Down in This Hole

I opened my eyes, but it didn’t help much. The weak light coming from somewhere only served to emphasize how dark it was. I sat up and cast a globe of light. It flared unevenly, but it was better than nothing. I stood gingerly. I was in a large, icy cavern with a big, arched passageway at one end. I felt sore and tired and beat up, and was also freezing despite the long leather coat I was wearing, so I started walking. Here and there a few torches were still sputtering, so I worried about casting heat rather than more light. Between the unpredictable levels of ambient magic around due to the power involved with closing the breach and what Corypheus had done trying to pull the Anchor out of me, even simple heat spells were difficult to cast properly. Like the light, they sputtered, for want of a better way to put it.

At one point I encountered a couple of fade demons and the Anchor awoke. I allowed it to do whatever it seemed to want, as I really wasn’t feeling up to fighting the damned things. It looked for all the world like it opened its own little rift that sucked the demons into it. That they were so easily vanquished was a relief, but it drained me even more. Just casting heat was becoming difficult, and I hoped I’d be able to hold out long enough to find the others, who’d promised they’d keep watch for me.

I emerged from the caverns to find a near-blizzard. I unwrapped the scarf from around my neck and fashioned a bandana covering my head and ears, wishing for the first time ever that I’d chosen to grow my hair out to a leonine mane rather than shaving it. I did up my coat as far as it would go, cast another heat spell and set out toward an indistinct shape just visible in the distance.

The snow was deep and powdery and difficult to walk through, and I’d been tired before I set out. The landmark I’d seen proved to be a campfire, but it was cold and dead. At least it told me I was going the right direction. I picked out the next indistinct shape and kept going. It was getting more difficult to keep casting heat spells — between my own fatigue and the magical interference I was encountering, they were becoming unreliable and short-lived. I kept casting anyway, because it was bitterly cold and the constant wind was making it worse.

The next stretch of time — I think it was hours, but I couldn’t tell you for sure; it felt like days — was easily one of the most miserable I’ve ever had to endure. It was a nightmare of endless cold and snow, with the wind doing its best to suck away what little warmth I was managing to generate with increasingly weak heat spells. The swirling snow got so dense at times it was impossible to see more than a few feet around myself. I had to send little beacons of flame or light straight ahead of me to ensure I wasn’t walking in circles. The bitter cold and the sameness of the swirling, pelting snow made me strain all the harder, looking for those occasional landmarks that loomed before me, reassuring me that I was getting _somewhere._

The only things that kept me going were the signs the others had come that way and the sure knowledge that if I stopped, I was dead. _And if I was dead, I’d never be able to resume my conversation with Dorian, let alone find out if he was playing hard to get and if he could be gotten._

I think at some point the heat spells simply stopped doing anything, though I continued trying to cast them. Wading through the snow was getting more difficult but I still knew stopping equaled death. I was so bloody cold I couldn’t think about much but that. Then some time later, I wasn’t cold. I wasn’t feeling anything but numb. I knew that should worry me, but I couldn’t think why. I kept walking anyway. 

I found a campfire that was still warm. I stood over it, and it took a while before I remembered its being warm was significant. I would rather have just lain down and gone to sleep, but had a vague memory of that being a bad idea. The warm fire meant I should keep walking, though I didn’t want to. I set out again.

I’d become mentally and physically numb, and my body had reached the limits of its endurance. I’d finally stopped trying to cast heat because I was too exhausted to try. I knew I needed to keep walking, but my legs had unilaterally (or would that be bi-laterally?) decided they weren’t going to play anymore. As I sank to my knees, I thought I heard a shout, but I’d thought that before and it had turned out to be a trick of the wind. Maybe if I just rested a few minutes… 

There was a flurry of activity and voices around me, but none of it made sense. I had a sense of movement and heat. Hands were hauling me up out of the snow and a voice that sounded familiar and comforting said something I didn’t register. I felt more heat, then nothing as whatever was keeping me going realized it didn’t have to.

_=#=_

I awoke under a pile of blankets to the sweet tones of my advisors arguing with each other. If the universe was a fair and benevolent place, the first face I would have seen would have been Dorian’s, an expression of concern and underlying adoration gracing his finely-sculpted features. Instead I beheld the unlovely visage of Mother Giselle (I really have no opinion about her physical appearance — I just don’t like her).

She told me I should rest — which was all I felt up to doing — and I complained that they’d been at it for hours. I’d heard the sniping before I’d even been fully aware of it. “The only thing yelling gets us is a headache. Another headache,” I amended.

“They know,” she replied. “But our situation — _your_ situation — is complicated.”

I snorted. “You don’t know the half of it.” I pushed myself up on my left elbow. I felt sore and tired, but not dangerously so. Giselle was veering from amusingly accurate into a speech about faith, not to mention accusing me of rising from the dead after the Conclave, which I most certainly had not. I was about to get cross and descend into the snappish sarcasm with which she always made me want to respond. Fortunately Dorian approached before I could start.

“I’ll take over now, Mother Giselle,” he said, contriving to push her away without appearing to do so.

“He is still unwell,” she protested.

“And I was one of those who helped heal him, so I do have a vested interest in his continued recovery,” he said smoothly. “You should get some rest yourself, don’t you think?”

She rose, clearly unhappy but unable to find a good argument. “Perhaps I shall. Do not allow him to over exert himself,” she admonished him.

“I’ll make sure. Thank you for your help, Mother Giselle.” 

We watched her until she was out of earshot. “She hates me, you know,” Dorian said cheerfully.

“She has no reason to. I’m the one who’s just barely able to stay civil to her,” I said.

“Ah, but there is the outside possibility Andraste favours you,” he said with a smirk. “Between that and your position in this organization, she has to be polite to you. She’s under no such stricture with me. Here.” He handed me a bundle. “I brought your clothes. They’ve been cleaned and dried. We had to get them off you when we got you to camp — they were keeping you cold.”

“Thank you.” I sat up and shivered as the blankets dropped away to pool around my waist. I wasted no time pulling on my shirts, saying, “Did I hear that right? You helped heal me?”

“Heat spells; I’m rather weak when it comes to actual healing,” he explained. “You were nearly frozen through. It took quite a bit of power to get you back to normal, but I was happy to help. Was something interfering with your casting heat on yourself?”

I nodded then gave him a look of mock surprise. “You’re admitting to being weak in something?”

“Shocking, isn’t it?” he said with a smile. “But I’m not naturally inclined towards healing. I suppose it’s the universe’s way to ensure others don’t despair given my level of talent in the other disciplines.”

I chuckled. “Must be that. Explains why I’m worse at healing than anything else too.” Keeping the blankets in place, I worked my underthings and trousers on. I noted his look of bemusement and said, “It’s bloody freezing and I’m already cold enough. Besides, it’s hardly fair, you getting to see everything when I’ve not had the same opportunity.”

He grinned. “You’d deny me my air of mystery and have your first glimpse in this cold and grotty little camp? Aesthetically this doesn’t even meet the minimum requirements for such an undertaking.”

I sighed. “You’re right, of course, but still.”  Although I was now dressed, I wrapped the blankets back around myself. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t see everything. I was a bit preoccupied trying to get you thawed out.”

“It does make me feel better. After all, I was freezing,” I said with a small smile then sighed. “I still feel cold.”

“Have you tried casting heat?”

“Not yet,” I admitted and cast. It was as effortless as usual and I immediately felt warmer. “Well, that’s a relief. I could barely get it to work when I was trying to reach you. I think Corypheus’s trying to pry the Anchor out of me fucked me up for a while.”

“He what?”

So I described in detail what had happened after he’d had to race to join the others escaping Haven.

He gave me a _may I?_ look and took my left hand, studying it again. He ran his fingertips over the mark itself, frowning as he let go my hand. “If you just physically feel it, you wouldn’t know it was there.” 

“What about magically?”

He stroked the patch of hair under his lower lip. “It’s…odd. It _buzzes_ , for want of a better word. I see what you mean about it being rather electrical, but not. It feels alive and _wrong_.”

I nodded. “It’s both, I think. I wish I knew what it wanted. Wants.”

“The fact that he wasn’t able to remove it suggests it’s made itself a part of you. What that means, I don’t know. My worry would be it won’t always remain relatively benign.”

I sighed. “Believe me, I’ve thought of all that. When I couldn’t cast correctly after the son of a bitch tried to pull it out of me…that freaked me out, as you can imagine.”

“Of course. You couldn’t have known that there was also a great deal of interference over the entire valley,” Dorian said. “The veil was in a rather frightening state of flux, between your closing the breach and whatever Corypheus was adding to the imbalance. Once we got away from the area of disturbance, everything went back to normal, but casting anything was a dicey proposition for a time.”

“So it wasn’t just me.” I felt somewhat relieved that I’d assessed the situation properly and Corypheus hadn’t done anything irreparable. An important thought occurred to me. “Is there any coffee?”

He laughed. “Now I know you’re feeling better. I’ll find out. Don’t go anywhere.” He brushed his hand lightly over mine and left the tent.

I wondered how he knew about my —ahem— high regard for coffee, since I didn’t remember discussing it with him. I enjoyed the thought that he may have been asking about me. Once he came back, we just talked for a time. He described the march they’d made to the camp through that same miserable blizzard that I’d endured, which led the conversation into disparaging remarks about cold weather and the people who enjoy it, among other things. A few people stuck their heads in the tent to ascertain that I really was back among the living, but they mostly left us alone. Eventually, coffee or no, I grew tired again and Dorian insisted I get more sleep. I didn’t argue, just lay down still fully dressed and went back to sleep.

When I woke again, it was with a sense that everything happening had happened before. My advisors were once again arguing. Mother Giselle was once again seated by the bed (I assumed Dorian was doing something sensible like eating or sleeping). The only differences were I was dressed and it was evening. 

“They’re at it again,” I observed sourly.

She took the charitable view (of course) that they could argue because I’d given them the luxury to do so by stopping Corypheus, then once again launched into the speech she’d started earlier.

I half listened to her thoughts on faith and Corypheus. I was more concerned about the locations of Dorian and coffee, with a side worry about where we were supposed to be heading. We couldn’t very well just wander the mountains hoping for someplace habitable to pop up. 

Then she reiterated her opinion that whether I’d died or not, people’s perception that I’d been raised and marked by Andraste was just fine (it certainly was for the Inquisition) and could still be the Maker’s doing. 

I retorted that it was religious fanaticism that was in large part responsible for the current state of affairs and perhaps we should start believing in this world instead of attributing every damn thing to some ineffable plan perpetrated by an invisible puppet master. As there was nowhere that conversation could go but downhill, I got up a little stiffly, pulled on my coat and boots, and exited the tent.

I stood just outside its entrance, looking over the camp and hoping to spot Dorian. My advisors had finally stopped arguing and now weren’t talking to each other. It was still bloody cold out, so I cast a heat spell that worked perfectly, much to my relief. The camp itself was a confusing sea of tents erected in circular formations around central fires for warmth. From where I was standing it looked like they went on forever. There were a couple of larger tents I could see nearby — I assumed these were dining facilities, or maybe that and a command centre. It was noisy, with people talking and shouting to one another, the occasional racket of oxen and horses in the distance, and the general clatter that goes with too many people living in too small an area. Everyone I could see looked tired and dispirited. 

Behind me, Mother Giselle started singing an old song called “The Dawn Will Come”, the volume increasing as she, too, moved outside the tent to stand near me. Other people in the camp started to gather round. I didn’t join in as many of them did, but the song seemed to make people feel better so I suppose she did a good thing.

“It’s all one world, Herald. All that changes is our place in it,” she said when she finished and walked away.

I was trying to decide how to take that when Solas approached, wanting “a word.” Despite his phrasing, I suspected several words were about to follow. I just hoped they wouldn’t mostly be about the bloody Fade. 

He led me to a place a short distance away from everyone — a snow-covered hilltop on which a lone veilfire torch stood. He lit the fire with a casual wave of his hand. He was still barefoot, which to my mind went beyond twee into ridiculous given the weather.

Rather than the Fade, the first words out of his mouth were about Mother Giselle. “A wise woman, worth heeding.”

I knew it was true (mostly — her wisdom seemed rather selective at times) and made a vaguely agreeable noise, but it didn’t change the fact that she set my teeth on edge and gave me an overwhelming urge to be rude. 

Fortunately, that was all he had to say about her. What he really wanted to talk about was the orb Corypheus carried. He told me it was elven in origin and that they were foci, originally used to channel magic.  I noted he said _they_ , and wondered how many other orbs might be out there…and how dangerous they might be.

Then he told me the other thing he wanted to talk of. He knew of a place in the mountains (no doubt he’d say he found it in the Fade) that the Inquisition could claim as their own, a base where we could regroup and organize to take down Corypheus. I agreed we needed such a thing, though I wondered at the incredible coincidence that saw him remembering there was an unused fortress lying about right when we needed one.

We took it to my advisors, who responded with enthusiasm. I thought sure that Leliana, at least, might have a few questions, but even she just seemed relieved we had a place to go. They announced to the camp that we’d be setting out in the morning. 

Finally both mobile and free from obligations, I went to the tent that had been set up as a makeshift dining hall. After everything I’d gone through, I was feeling famished. I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I sat down and ate.

“There you are!” Dorian caught up with me as I took a bowl of stew from the cook. “I looked for you after the sing-along, but you were nowhere to be seen.”

I accepted a thick slice of bread with a word of thanks and we sat at one of the long tables. There was almost no one else in the tent, which suited me fine. “Solas wanted to chat. Told me about this fortress he knows of, and also something of the orb _s_.” I emphasized the plural.

Dorian raised his eyebrows. “There are more than one? I suppose the Fade told him that as well?”

“Of course. He and the Fade undoubtedly tell each other everything,” I said between bites. “He said they’re elven and used to be foci, but I suspect we’re not getting the full story.”

“Do you think he knows the full story?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know what to think when it comes to him. Half the time he seems friendly enough, then other times he acts like a condescending twat. I just wish he’d expand his repertoire of subjects worth discussing.”

“Develop an interest other than the Fade? Are you mad? Next you’ll be suggesting he should organize an amateur theatre troupe or — dare I say? — invest in a new wardrobe.”

“Footwear would be a good start.”

“I noted you seem to find that vexing.” He looked amused.

“I do. I don’t know if he’s proclaiming his elfiness in some weird, pointless way or if he just has no feeling in his feet.” 

“You don’t want to cast a few good heat spells and join him in traipsing through the snow barefoot?”

“I like boots too much and I have nothing to prove. Perhaps you’d like to for Tevinter’s sake?”

“Tevinter would not applaud my adopting the wardrobe of an apostate hobo,” he said.

I laughed. “I just hope this place isn’t too far, since we have fuck all horses.”

“I’m sure they’ll give you one.”

I snorted. “As Andraste’s Chosen they’ll probably have me blazing the trail at the front. On foot. For dramatic effect and to rally the spirits of all our loyal followers.”

We spent most of the evening together, but had to call it a night earlier than I would have liked. They wanted to get going to our new base as early as possible, so Dorian very properly went back to the tent they had him quartered in while I went to my own. 

“Here’s you then.”

I turned from hanging up my coat to find Sera perching on the folding stool in my tent.

“I wondered where you’d gotten to.” I sat on the bed to undo my boots.

“Well, the first bit you were being a Kai-sicle and then all the big hats wanted you, and I figured you’d want Dorian to yourself after all that, so I waited,” she said with a grin.

“Thanks.” I raised one eyebrow. “A _Kai-sicle_?”

“Well, you were proper frozen when they hauled you in here,” she said wide-eyed. “Everyone was all in a panic trying to get you warmed up. Dorian was magicking heat into you till they made him go get some sleep. I guess he told you that, yeah?”

“No, he didn’t.” I couldn’t help the little smile I had. “Fancy that. He does care.”

“ _Duh._ Shoulda seen him all worried about you. I don’t get why he doesn’t just tell you he’s keen on you. Is it some nobby rules or what?”

I laughed. “I wish he would too. And I think nobby rules may be partly to blame. He seems to think he’ll compromise me somehow because he’s Tevinter. Or maybe he doesn’t want people to know he fancies men?”

Sera made a rude noise. “Well if that’s it, that’s just stupid. Why should anyone care?”

I sighed. “ _I_ don’t know. Maybe it’s a Tevinter thing? So what have you been up to all day?”

She gave me a conspiratorial smirk. “Listening, mostly. The Chant-pounders all think Andraste saved you again.”

I snorted. “By letting Corypheus fling me around, dropping me into a bloody great hole in the ground then damn near letting me freeze to death? If I ever do meet her I’ll have a few choice things to say about her concept of _helping_. Anything else?”

“Lots of talk about what happened, all the usual shite. They wanna know about this new place we’re going. How’d you find it, anyways?”

“Solas did. In the Fade,” I said.

Her lip curled. “Weelll…long as it’s not all elfy, I guess it’s worth a look. It’s gotta be better than here. Guess I should let you get some sleep before they all want you to be all Heraldy.”

“Ugh. Unfortunately, you’re right. You’ll be expected to be up early too, you know.”

She grinned. “Yeah, but I don’t have to inspire anyone. Want me to work on Dorian?”

“If you can, any help would be appreciated.” I grinned back. “Otherwise the frustration might kill me soon. Thanks for coming by, Sera.”

“Still doesn’t mean I’m mad about you. I might just feel sorry for you.” She stood, still smirking.

“Well, I still appreciate it. Good night, Sera.”

“Good night, Herald of Nothing.” She gave me a little wave and departed.


	6. Changes

With Solas leading the way, the journey to our new base took a few days, though that was partly due to the necessity of finding passes through which an entire village of people could pass with all their supplies and belongings loaded into ox carts.  Late on the third afternoon, we crested a rise and got our first glimpse of our new home.

“Skyhold,” Solas said, gesturing at the edifice below us. 

It was impressive, I must admit. A great, walled fortress of stone seated on the mountaintop, reached via an equally large and impressive stone bridge. From our vantage point, it all looked intact and defensible against virtually anything someone might throw at it.

I still rather wondered how one misplaced an entire fortress, but had to admit the last thing I’d normally do for kicks would be climbing remote mountains in hopes that someone might have left something interesting on a random peak.

Fortunately, the bridge really was intact when we reached it. Scouts ran ahead to open its doors and we crossed into the lower courtyard. While Cullen and his lieutenants started trying to organize the throng as they entered behind us, those of us that had come to comprise the inner circle of the Inquisition (myself, Dorian, Sera, Varric, Cassandra, Leliana, Josephine, Solas and Blackwall) climbed the stairs to the upper level of the massive fortress. Up close it was proving to be…not quite as intact as we might wish.

“I take it the ambient magic didn’t extend itself to include upkeep,” Dorian said.

“This is…going to take some work,” I agreed.

“We will get people on it immediately,” Cassandra said.

“Who’s this belong to? Should we expect some brassed off old wanker to show up saying we’re squatting?” Sera asked.

“I’d say no one’s been up here for a very long time,” Blackwall said.

“You watch. The second people realize someone’s moved in, _someone_ ’ll be up here wanting rent,” Varric said cheerfully.

“So where is everyone supposed to sleep while they fix everything?” I asked.

“Perhaps a nice, warm, nearby village?” Dorian said wistfully.

“The closest village is a full day’s ride away,” Solas said.

“We will see to it that everyone has acceptable quarters and organize the public and official areas we need,” Leliana said in a businesslike tone. 

“So…is there anything you need us for right now?” I made a gesture vaguely encompassing myself, Dorian, Sera, Varric and Blackwall.

Josie consulted her ever-present portable tablet. “I do not think so. We will let you know when we’ve got suitable quarters arranged. Until then, feel free to explore.”

Sera frowned. “I just wanna know where we’re supposed to piss.”

_=#=_

The next several days were given over to getting Skyhold sufficiently repaired to accommodate everyone — not a simple undertaking, but we had several people who knew something about construction and even seemed to enjoy it. I did my part by staying out of their way.

I suppose I should mention the one bit of public grandstanding that involved me. By unanimous accord (or so I was assured), I was officially named Inquisitor and installed as the leader of our fledgling organization. First Cassandra laid it on thick about how without me, there would be no Inquisition and its direction and fate was in my hands, even though I’m a mage.

The ceremony was all very dramatic. With my advisors at my side, we stood on the landing above the lower grounds of the fortress with everyone who wasn’t busy building or repairing something gathered below. They declared me Inquisitor and handed me a ridiculously large sword that was guaranteed to look really impressive as long as I didn’t drop it (and never mind I’m a mage so what was the significance of the sword aside from looking badass?). 

Using just a little magic to amplify my voice, I said some pointed words about how I was going to set an example as a mage, that this Inquisition wasn’t faith-based and we were going to kick Corypheus’s arse. Cullen provided a stirring pep talk ( _Inquisition: Will you follow?_ Everyone cheers. _Will you fight?_ Everyone cheers. _Will we triumph?_ Everyone cheers). He concluded with “Your leader! Your Herald! _Your Inquisitor!_ ” Everyone cheered again. I held the sword aloft in a heroic pose and didn’t drop it. The cheering doubled. I’ll say one thing — it was certainly an ego booster. 

More importantly, I no longer had to put up with the hated Herald of Andraste appellation. Some persisted in calling me that for a time, but “Inquisitor” caught on fairly quickly. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to be inquisitive about, but The Inquisition sounded better than the Kick Corypheus’s Arse Club, so I went with it (Sera, naturally, thought the latter name was better).

So now that I had a shiny new title and role, did I get to revel in my newfound power? Of course not. There was the matter of my delayed meeting with the mercenary on the Storm Coast to consider, plus rumblings about red templars and maker knew what else in the area, so while the building crews worked overtime, we went back to working out travel plans.

Being named Inquisitor wasn’t the only good thing that happened. In all the chaos, Dorian appeared a little more comfortable spending time together publicly, I imagine at least in part because he officially joined the Inquisition. Not that we had a swearing-in ceremony — we were talking one evening over drinks and the subject turned, unsurprisingly, to Corypheus and the Inquisition. 

I won’t go into all the details, but the important part was he said, “I have no intention of letting Corypheus win. Not without _someone_ from Tevinter standing against him. If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to stay and help the Inquisition.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Is that the only reason you want to stay?”

He smiled. “The only one I’ll publicly admit to.”

“You’re a cruel man, Dorian Pavus, but we can use all the help we can get,” I said.

The smile turned into a grin. “No one will thank me, no matter what happens. No one will thank you, either. You know that, yes?”

I gave him a cynical smile back. “Oh, yes. That’s not why I’m doing this.”

“I knew there was something clever about you.” His expression hardened. “All I know is this: Corypheus needs to be stopped. Men like him ruined my homeland. I won’t stand by and let him ruin the world.” His smile returned. “Oh. And congratulations on that whole leading-the-Inquisition thing, by the way.”

“Well, since I am the leader, let me officially welcome you to the Inquisition,” I said.

“Shouldn’t there be some kind of commemorative badge? There’s always a souvenir, I thought.”

“You know, you’re right,” I said with mock consternation. “How else will people be able to prove they were involved? I’ll get Josie right on it tomorrow.” I grinned. “Knowing her, if I mention it she really _will_ get on it and be appalled at herself for the oversight.”

“She does seem to thrive on that sort of minutia,” Dorian said with a smile. “So how is Inquisiting so far? Has the power had time to go to your head?”

“Not yet,” I said. “It’s supposed to provide perks but I’ve not seen many. Orlesian courtiers have begun showing up and I’ve had to say hello to all of them.” 

“Not something I’d consider a perk,” Dorian agreed. “Where are they putting them all?”

“I’ve no idea. Still, they’ll have to get by without my official greeting soon. No matter what, my main job is closing rifts. Now that you’re a part of all this, fancy a trip to the Storm Coast?”

“How could I turn down an all-expenses-paid trip to a place with such an attractive name?”

_=#=_

All things considered, the trip to the Storm Coast was a (ha-ha) whirlwind affair. There were myriad things they needed me for at Skyhold as we turned the Inquisition into a real thing with structure and diplomatic and military ties. People we needed to negotiate with all thought they should be able to meet with the leader of the organization and — odd as it still felt — that was me. 

All of which meant for all the travelling together and camping in tents, I really got very little alone time with Dorian. I got to watch him a lot, and continued to be impressed with him on more levels than just his undeniable good looks. Though he complained about the ghastly weather, he never once tried to avoid getting involved in our activities, even when we were slogging through mud and getting attacked by ill-tempered wildlife on our way to another out of the way rift that needed closing. Just as during our journey to that possible future, he was smart, resourceful and professional and remained calm even when things were going mad around us. We were becoming so accustomed to working together, we barely had to check with each other to coordinate our spellcasting.

We met the mercenary — a big Qunari named The Iron Bull — who told us up front that he was a spy for the Qun. I welcomed him into the Inquisition anyway. He and his crew, the Chargers, would be a valuable asset in my estimation, and better the spy you knew than the one they’d undoubtedly place in the Inquisition regardless.

We closed the rifts in the area, took out a few red templar cells and recruited a quasi-military group calling themselves the Blades of Hessarian through the schoolyard mechanism of fighting and beating their big, dumb bully of a leader…though in schoolyards I don’t suppose the bully normally ends up dead. In just a few days the lot of us, Bull and his Chargers included, returned to Skyhold.

The clean-up and construction crews had been working at breakneck speed during our absence. The great hall — which had looked like a repository for rubble and broken furniture — was clean and mostly rebuilt, right down to the stained glass windows. There was still some scaffolding about, but they’d even installed a suitably imposing throne on the dais at the end of the hall. I supposed I’d be expected to sit in it at some point, and couldn’t imagine not feeling silly when I did.

Dorian and Iron Bull were now considered important members of our fledgling organization — Dorian due not just to the fact that I was keen on him, but to his talent, breadth and depth of knowledge, and being a highborn Tevinter. Bull, of course, was an automatic important member because you don’t alienate the guy spying on you, you do keep him close enough to watch, and he was also smart and knowledgeable despite his looking like a mountain of dumb muscle. As such, they were allowed to pick from a handful of private quarters still available. Dorian chose a small room on the lower floor. It had its own fireplace and a fairly large, sturdy wardrobe that put it a cut above some of the other rooms, but that left space for only a narrow bed and small nightstand. 

“I’ve had larger closets back home, but compared to some of the places I’ve stayed the last few years, this is practically luxurious,” he said philosophically. “At least I won’t need to spend every moment casting heat spells in here.”

Then he accompanied me to get a first look at my new quarters. I didn’t think much of the only door to them being _in_ the main hall just steps from the throne — hopefully there was a back door — and could see times when I was going to seriously resent having to climb a further two flights of stairs, but they certainly covered the _luxurious_ criterion.

They were vast, with bookshelves and a large desk, massive windows letting out on a stunning view that could be observed from balconies on two sides, a big fireplace, couch and bed, a private water closet, a narrow but possibly useful second level and some empty space I was already picturing containing a private shower. “They certainly have spared no expense,” I murmured.

“You could hold dance recitals in here,” Dorian said, “with entire competing ballet troupes.”

I looked far above to the ceiling. “Do you suppose they’d object if I installed a trapeze?”

“Now there’s an intriguing thought,” he said with a grin.

“I have all sorts of intriguing thoughts,” I retorted. “Some of them are even repeatable in mixed company.”

“Are you intimating there’s more to you than this outward persona of mild-mannered Circle mage?”

“You are a terrible person for suggesting that is my outward persona. Even so, I’m willing to reveal _depths_ to you if you ask nicely.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And if I choose to be more forceful in my request?”

“It may be that I’d respond more forcefully in my demonstration.”

He circled me, assessing. “What _did_ you get up to before fate so precipitously dropped you here?”

“If you’re truly curious, we could come to an arrangement,” I said, giving him an arch look.

“I can think of several arrangements I’d be willing to come to when you have more than a few scant moments.” He flashed me a similar look back and crossed to the fireplace, which had been burning when we walked in. “The view is striking, but I must say just seeing all those snow-covered peaks makes me feel somehow colder. Did you notice they haven’t thought to provide curtains or any other form of insulation?”

“Hopefully whoever built this place took that into consideration,” I said doubtfully. “It’s not so bad right now, but I don’t know that I’d want to let that fire go out. I’ll order drapes.”

“We certainly can’t have our Inquisitor catching his death of cold for lack of window coverings. At least you’re not lacking for closet space.”

"There need to be more chairs in here,” I observed. “There should at least be a few by the fireplace.”

“So tell them to give you more chairs, and demand they be scandalously comfortable. You’re The Inquisitor now — they have to give you whatever you want.”

“I am endangering myself repeatedly for their benefit, aren’t I?”

“Indeed. Make sure you request hazard pay as well.”

“I clearly need to keep you close by, what with all this sage advice you’re offering.”

“ _That’s_ what you want me around for?” He gave me a wounded look.

I glared back. “The fault for my saying only that lies entirely on you. If I were any less subtle, _Sera_ would be advising me to tone it down.”

He didn’t respond — just looked into my eyes, his expression unreadable. It was one I’d seen many times as our relationship had gone from friendship into whatever infuriating grey area it was now inhabiting. I could never decide if he was unhappy with my barely disguised interest in something more than friendship, or with some strange stricture he’d put on himself to never admit he might feel the same. If something didn’t happen soon, I was going to have to chance his telling me I’d grossly misinterpreted his signals and demand he stop this half-assed flirting that never went anywhere. I was fast approaching the point where the continued frustration was tipping from intriguing to untenable. For now I let him get away with changing the subject.

“Shall we see what they’ve done with the rest of the place? I imagine people will be wondering where we are soon.”

I gave him a cynical look that left no doubt I knew he was dodging the topic of ‘us’ yet again. “I suppose we owe it to the builders to examine their handiwork. Besides, I do need to put in my order for everything up here.”

We dropped by Josephine’s brand new office. She wasn’t in, so I wrote a quick note outlining what I needed and we continued exploring.

Our happiest discovery was the library. It wasn’t very large compared to the rest of the place, but it was warm, inviting and already had a stock of books. Dorian made a beeline for a high backed, lushly upholstered reading chair situated by a window and set back at the end of two short bookshelves. He ran a hand along its back then settled in it, trying different positions with a faint smile on his lips. The dark red upholstery and oversized, ovoid back of the chair framed him beautifully. 

“This is by far the most civilized spot I’ve seen in this entire place,” he declared.

“If you wish to claim it for Tevinter’s representative in the South, you have the Inquisitor’s blessing,” I said with a grin. “It is very nice.”

“I believe I’ll take you up on that offer. Would it be overstepping to declare this my office, do you think?”

“I—” A chorus of raucous caws interrupted me. “What in the void was that?”

A passing librarian stopped, a pained smile on his lips. “That’s Sister Nightingale’s ravens, Inquisitor. They get excited sometimes. A lot of times. She’s got herself set up on the upper floor.”

I thanked him and sighed. “I’d best say hello to her if she’s up there. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time till they come looking for me.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I’ll leave you to it,” Dorian said, looking almost content in his chair. “If you’re going to start Inquisiting, I’ll just be in the way.”

I nodded. “I’m afraid duty calls, but I’ll be back.”

“I’ll be counting the moments,” he said with a sultry smile.

I had a moment of my own, picturing doing something very graphic with him using the chair as a prop, but pushed it to the back of my mind. “See that you do. I may quiz you when I return.” 

As he chuckled, I gave him a wave and headed for the stairs.


	7. Look Back in Anger

The next week, I was so busy dealing with all manner of people, plans and small emergencies it was all I could do to slip away now and then to grab a bite to eat and say hello to Dorian. He’d wasted no time in making it clear that the warm, comfortable nook in the library was his, which at least made it easy to find him at all hours.

Some of the best times both then and later were when I’d finish my duties late at night. I’d fetch myself a few bottles of beer and inevitably find Dorian still up in the library, usually reading by the soft light he’d cast for himself (though at times he was accomplishing said reading with his eyes closed), hair charmingly mussed from his unconscious habit of running his hand through it when he was concentrating. He normally had a glass of wine next to him, and sometimes a half-finished snack. I’d pull up a chair near him and finally relax. We’d usually talk, but at times we just sat in companionable silence, with him occasionally repeating interesting bits out of whatever he was reading. Even though we weren’t doing anything, those quiet times were somehow intimate. We were both less guarded than usual, and the darkness and silence — expect for the occasional squawk of a restless raven above — made it feel like we were alone in that small island of light and warmth.

It was during that week Dorian received a letter concerning Felix. “You remember him?” he said with a sad smile.

“Of course I do. I didn’t get to know him well, but the little I did was enough to convince me he was a good man.”

Dorian appeared grateful, his eyes suspiciously bright. “He went to the Magisterium. Stood on the Senate floor and told them of you. A glowing testimonial, I’m informed. No news on the reaction, but everyone is talking. Felix always was as good as his word.”

“Was?”

Dorian sighed. “He’s dead. The blight caught up with him.”

I studied him. “Are you all right?”

“He was ill, and thus on borrowed time anyhow. Alexius was using magic to keep him alive. It was failing, which spurred his whole mad association with the Venatori.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t regret his death,” I said.

“I know.” He gave me another sad smile. “He must have raced back, pulled strings like a madman. Ordinarily it takes months to gather the Senate. You know, Felix used to sneak me treats from the kitchens when I was working late in his father’s study. ‘Don’t get into trouble on my behalf,’ I’d tell him.  ‘I like trouble,’ he’d say. Tevinter could use more mages like him, those who put the good of others above themselves.”

“Not just Tevinter, and not just mages. Were the two of you…?” I hazarded. If he said yes he’d no longer be able to dance around the subject, flirting equally with just enough women to keep me off balance. And I kind of wondered.

His brows drew together. “Felix and I? What an odd question.” 

“Odd why?” It seemed like a perfectly natural question to me.

“I suppose I just never thought of him that way. No, I had no intention of abusing Alexius’s hospitality by seducing his son. Not that I’ve been proper my whole life by any means. It wasn’t like that.” He cocked his head to the right, studying me with a touch of amusement. “Are you, the almighty Inquisitor, jealous of a sick young man? You are, aren’t you?”

I gave him the same look back. “Incredibly jealous. When you leave, I’m going to write angry poetry.”

His smile was small but genuine. “Mind the rhyming scheme. All insipid poetry must rhyme, you know.”

“I suppose I’d best tell his father,” I said.

“You?” Dorian exhaled slowly. “Would you mind if I did? It…might feel better coming from me.”

They’d brought Alexius before me for judgment shortly after they got the throne set up. I did feel a bit silly sitting up there, but that was overshadowed by the thought that there was nothing that made me more capable of making the right decision other than my title. My father had talked to me about that when I was a boy and it was assumed I’d be Bann one day. I didn’t understand at the time what he meant about the importance of taking that responsibility seriously.

What I found unsettling was I could order this man’s execution and they’d do it. I didn’t. What Alexius had done was incredibly wrongheaded and would have ended in disaster, but he hadn’t set out to destroy the world and he still had a wealth of knowledge he could contribute, so I ordered he work doing magical research for the Inquisition, under appropriate watch. 

I nodded. “If you want, of course you can. You knew Felix better than anyone.”

He thanked me, but I didn’t think I was doing him any favours. It would be difficult, and worse punishment for Gereon Alexius than anything I could mete out.

We talked a little more about Felix, Dorian reminiscing about his days working in Alexius’s home, and ended up going for a few drinks at the newly opened pub. Dorian reminisced some more, and I told him of my clandestine meeting with Felix, which amused him no end. Then Sera joined us, followed not long after by The Iron Bull. It was a surprisingly pleasant night, my only real regret being that Dorian went back to his quarters at the end.

_=#=_

The trigger that changed the limbo in which we’d been circling one another came from an unexpected source. I was en route from the library to Josephine’s office, passing through the great hall, when Mother Giselle hailed me. I winced, but there was nowhere to flee now that she’d seen me, so I schooled my features into an approximation of pleasant interest and let her approach me.

For once it was a worthwhile encounter. The old bat had “news” of Dorian — or as she called him, “the Tevinter.” Giselle said she had been contacted by Dorian’s family, of all people. They’d sent a letter in which they said they wanted to meet with him. I questioned why they’d contact _her_ about it (and had my suspicions as to who contacted who).  She claimed it was because the Inquisitor was too scary a personage to approach and they already feared Dorian would reject the overture out of hand. 

Her explanation wasn’t outside the realm of possibility, much as I distrusted it. I knew something terrible had happened between Dorian and his father, but hadn’t pressed him for particulars, hoping he’d tell me when he felt comfortable.

She swore the meeting was just to talk to him — they’d send a retainer to take him to a neutral place. They also said they wanted Dorian to know nothing of it, and their goal was to get him to return to Tevinter. She was trying to make out that she just wanted to help, but it didn’t escape me how enthusiastically she was embracing the idea of sending him home, all under the guise of family unity, of course.

She assured me the family felt remorse for whatever they’d done to him, then proceeded to tell me it was just fine to deceive and keep him in the dark until he was thrust back into their loving bosom, because the ends justified the means. 

She’d used that same argument in telling me it was fine to encourage people to believe I was the Chosen of Andraste. Who knows — if she hadn’t shown her distaste for Dorian, and if I didn’t dislike her with admittedly unreasonable intensity, I might have listened. But to my mind, if someone had done that to me, I’d be angry and the situation between my parents and me was merely uncomfortable.

I brought up the possibility that it could be a trap, and she agreed readily, pointing out that I was much better equipped to deal with such an eventuality. On that, at least, we could agree.

I said I’d think about it (without committing to her secrecy plot) and took the letter. She blessed me, wishing me luck and Dorian happiness. I doubted the latter was sincere. 

I found a private corner and read the letter. It was all about the family being so very concerned about “the boy” placing himself in such peril in the barbaric south. Given he was thirty years old, I considered the repeated insistence of both Giselle and the family on referring to him like an impulsive youth to be a veiled insult at best. It showed a marked disregard for Dorian’s thoughts and feelings on the matter, treating him as if he’d merely run off in a fit of pique after daddy wouldn’t let him do something foolish.

Much as I wanted to rush up to the library right away, I had duties to deal with first, so I didn’t get a chance until the dinner hour. Fortunately Dorian was still there when I entered. He looked up from the book he was reading with a smile.

“There you are. All done Inquisiting for the day?”

“Hopefully,” I said, leaning against the bookshelf across from him. “I had an interesting conversation earlier today. It was with Mother Giselle.”

He smirked. “Kai, ‘interesting’ is not a word you normally use in conjunction with Mother Giselle. This leads me to believe something very _ab_ normal has occurred.”

“You could say that. I finally got her to admit she doesn’t like you.”

“How is that interesting? We both knew that.”

“That’s not the interesting part. I just mention it because it might have bearing on the why of the interesting part. Well, that and I just enjoyed making her own up to it. She said your presence here makes her _uncomfortable_.” 

“I would make a joke about unaccustomed stirrings in her loins, but that’s a picture I’d rather not consider. Now what, pray tell, is the interesting part?”

I pulled the letter out of my vest pocket. “You need to see this.” He stood and I handed it to him.

“A letter? Is it a naughty letter? A humorous proposal from some Antivan dowager?”

“Not quite.” I watched him closely. “It’s from your father.”

His mien went perfectly blank. “From my father. I see. And what does Magister Halward want, pray tell?”

As he read, his expression became increasingly angry. I didn’t blame him, and was doubly glad I’d decided to let him know. He looked up at me, and I could see hurt beneath the anger.

“ _’I know my son’_? What my father knows of me would barely fill a thimble. This is so _typical,”_ he all but spat out the last word. “I’m willing to bet this ‘retainer’ is a henchman, hired to knock me on the head and drag me back to Tevinter.”

“He’d do that?”

He hesitated, something darker than mere anger flashing across his features. “No. But I wouldn’t put it past him. I need to go there. The sooner this is resolved, the better.”

“I’m sure everyone can muddle through without me for a few days,” I said.

He honestly looked surprised. “You mean you’ll come with me?”

“Of course I’m coming with you. You may have noticed I’m rather fond of you, not to mention you’re an important member of this grand organization. I’m hardly going to send you off alone to get hit over the head and dragged back to Tevinter. You need backup and I need to know you’re going to be all right.”

“But the Inquisition—” he started.

“Had better be able to survive a few days without us or we’re seriously fucked anyway,” I said firmly. “You’d best start packing while I tell everyone I’ve something to do that doesn’t involve them, and don’t go thinking you’re going to talk me out of it.”

Dorian gave me a bemused smile. “Yes, Inquisitor. Anything else?”

I thought for a moment. “Have you eaten? No? Then we should get something. Would you rather bother the kitchen or the pub?”

“The pub. I believe I could use a drink or five.”

I nodded. “Then let me go tell people my plans and we’ll go there. You’re not the only one that could use a drink.”

“And if I were to say I’d rather not?”

I gave him a half smile. “You don’t get that choice. I’m helping you, so you have to let me.”

“I had no idea you were this pushy,” he said, but didn’t look upset about it.

“Once you’re officially running something, you’re no longer pushy — you’re decisive,” I said.

He raised his eyebrows. “Well, then. Your command is my wish.”

I grinned. “That’s more like it. I’ll see you there in a few minutes?”

“You think you can get away from your advisors in a _few_ minutes?”

“I’m being decisive, remember?”

Decisively, I got most of what I wanted. I was accompanying Dorian to the Gull and Lantern pub in Redcliffe to meet this retainer. Annoyingly, Leliana had jumped on our little trip as a perfect opportunity to send some replacement personnel to the crossroads settlement, so we’d have company for most of the trip. I swear, it was like there was a conspiracy to keep me from getting Dorian alone for more than a few hours at a time. I couldn’t even argue, because it did make sense and she pointed out as Inquisitor, I really should have extra protection while travelling.

I got to the pub just a few minutes late to find Sera and Krem (Bull’s lieutenant and right hand man) had joined Dorian at the table he’d picked out. I gave a purely mental sigh and joined them. At least I managed to sit next to him.

_=#=_

We left early the next morning for Redcliffe, accompanied by a small squad of four soldiers and two of Leliana’s agents, who were destined for points throughout the Hinterlands and would leave us at the crossroads. Everyone was friendly enough, but it didn’t take long for us to separate into three distinct units, with the four soldiers (who seemed a little awed and uncomfortable with Dorian and me) forming one, Leliana’s people the second, and the two of us the third. Everyone seemed content with that configuration, so we stuck with it. I spent the first part of the day feeling uncommunicative and as though I’d had nowhere near enough coffee. Dorian seemed absorbed in his own thoughts, and even once I’d levelled out, I didn’t push him to indulge in anything beyond light conversation.

We made good time, getting well over halfway to our destination before overnighting at a well-appointed inn. Dorian took a separate room, which was absolutely correct from the perspective of propriety, but I was a little disappointed. I mollified myself with the thought that I wouldn’t even have gotten an extra conversation out of sharing a room — everyone retired early, tired from the long stint of travel and wanting to reach the Hinterlands as quickly as possible.

It wasn’t until we’d bid our traveling companions goodbye at the crossroads the next afternoon and started down the road to Redcliffe that I got to have any proper conversation with Dorian.

He glanced over at me and said, “I apologize if I’ve been bad company. I’ve been thinking far too much about what this supposed reunion might entail.”

“I understand,” I said. “Feel like talking about it?”

“Do you suppose there’s actually someone watching for us? Are they even now dashing ahead to alert the retainer to get his bindings prepared?”

“I thought you said your father wouldn’t do that.”

He raked a hand through his hair. “Not again, he wouldn’t. You see, he did that once. It…didn’t end well. For anyone.”

“Should I ask?”

He gave me a pained smile. “Not yet. Let’s see how this goes first. I’m almost hoping it _is_ a Venatori trap — I feel uncommonly like cutting loose on something right now.”

I laughed. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and run into something stupid and aggressive.”

He chuckled. “Kai…may I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“How do you get on with your family? Are there scores of happy Trevelyans waiting to hear word from you back in Ostwick?”

I snorted. “Not hardly. I—” I chewed the inside of my lower lip, thinking what to say.

“Am I overstepping? You’ve never talked about them, but I wasn’t sure if it was a sore point.” He sounded a little worried.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just…uncomfortable between us. Things got very fucked up when the Templars took me away as a boy and they’ve kind of stayed that way ever since. There’s not scores of us. Just me, and I’ve got a sister who’s twelve years younger, but I really don’t know her. I’ve only met her a couple of times. There’s a lot of extended family, but we really didn’t see any of them. Father’s side was either too busy or too religious — the religious ones just bloody _hate_ that I’m a mage — and Mother’s side are all mad except for her brother. I’m not even sure what to tell you.”

“How do your parents feel about your being a mage? Have you seen them since you were locked in the circle?”

I barked something resembling laughter. “As you might imagine here in the South, they aren’t thrilled. My father’s mostly disappointed I won’t be the next Bann of Ostwick, I think. Mother pretends not to, but she fucking hates it. I’ve seen them since I left the circle — like I told you, that was a few years before the Conclave — but not often.”

He made a small, thoughtful noise. “How do you know your mother hates it if she pretends she doesn’t?”

“Well, it could be the faces she makes, or the way she can barely stand to say I’m a mage, but on the whole I’d say the dead giveaway was when she got Father to back her up in suggesting I might want to look into being made Tranquil,” I said lightly.

“Honestly?” He looked at me wide-eyed. “ _Venhedis_.”

“Yeah. That was a fun night. I suppose that might help explain why I say things are uncomfortable between us.”

“It does add some depth to your statement,” he agreed.  “And also reminds me that there are others with grossly insensitive parents. Oh, look. We’ve made it to Redcliffe.”

Of course we’d reached town right when it seemed he might tell me what had happened with him and his father.  We stopped at the stables and paid for one night in advance with the understanding our plans might change then proceeded to the pub on foot.

“Seems awfully quiet,” I observed. Not one person had gone in or out since it had been in our line of sight.

“Well, it _is_ the middle of the week,” Dorian hazarded.

“And late enough the early drinkers should be showing up. Maybe it really is a Venatori trap.”

He gave me a reckless grin. “There’s only one way to find out. Let’s do this.”

We walked into the pub to find it empty. I wondered how much that had cost.

“Uh-oh. Nobody’s here. This doesn’t bode well,” Dorian murmured.

A man came down the stairs ahead and to our left. Dorian was looking the other direction so I was able to study him for a moment before he said, “Dorian.”

He was older, but I could see no grey in his hair, which was black and unremarkably styled. He was wearing a brown leather tunic with a gold and orange sunburst pattern, long, light brown gloves and a green…wrap-thing outlined in gold that accentuated the high neck of the tunic and stopped just below his shoulders. (I’m sure Dorian could tell me what it’s called.) He looked unhappy. I would too if I was stuck wearing that outfit.

I was assuming this was the retainer, but Dorian said, “Father. So the whole story about the ‘family retainer’ was just…what? A smoke screen?”

Halward looked unhappier. “Then you were told.” He turned to me. “I apologize for the deception, Inquisitor. I never intended for you to be involved.”

Before I could answer, Dorian said, “Of course not. Magister Pavus couldn’t come to Skyhold and be seen with the _dread_ Inquisitor. What would people think?” His voice dripped sarcasm.

Halward sighed and kept addressing me. “This is how it has always been.”

Dorian snapped, “What is ‘this’ exactly, Father? Ambush? Kidnapping? _Warm_ family reunion?”

The tension was nearly making the air crackle. I was close enough to feel Dorian’s magic swirling and strengthening around him in response to his agitation. “I should leave you to work this out…” I hazarded.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Dorian fixed me with those riveting grey eyes. “I want a witness. I want someone to hear the truth.”

I gave him a shallow nod and turned to Halward. “Considering you lied to get him here, Dorian has every right to be furious.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Dorian snapped. “But maybe you should.”

Halward was looking increasingly uncomfortable. “Dorian, there’s no need to—”

He glared at his father then turned his attention to me. “I prefer the company of men. My father disapproves.”

I kept my expression utterly blank, but I have to admit for a moment I had to seriously clamp down on the urge to burst out laughing. _Finally._ After the amount of time he’d strung me along, I felt it only fair to say, “I’ll need you to explain that.”

“Did I stutter? Men, and the company thereof. As in sex. Surely you’ve heard of it.”

I tried desperately not to smirk. “I’ve more than heard of it, actually.”

He must have realized how ludicrous the conversation was, considering what had been going on between us for weeks. I clearly saw him switch from anger to amusement as he said, “No! The Herald of Andraste? I am shocked and scandalized.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Such sarcasm.”

He gave me a small smile. “You’re not exactly subtle, oh Lord Inquisitor. Now I’m trying to think how they’ll write that verse of the Chant.”

“That’s all you’re thinking about?”

Halward, apparently tired of being ignored, said, “I should have known that’s what this was about.”

Dorian turned on him fiercely. “ _No._ You don’t get to make those assumptions. You know nothing about the Inquisitor.”

I said, “So…that’s a big concern in Tevinter, is it?”

Dorian glared daggers at his father. “Only if you’re trying to live up to an impossible standard. Every Tevinter family is intermarrying to distil the _perfect_ mage, perfect body, perfect mind. The perfect leader. It means every perceived flaw — every aberration — is deviant and shameful.”

“This display is uncalled for,” Halward blustered.

“No, it _is_ called for,” Dorian retorted. “You called for it by luring me here.”

“This is not what I wanted.”

“I’m never what you wanted, Father, or had you forgotten?”

“Dorian, please, if you’ll only listen to me,” Halward said.

Dorian snarled. “Why? So you can spout more convenient lies? _He_ taught me to hate blood magic. ‘The resort of the weak mind.’ Those are _his_ words.” He turned away for a moment then spun back to Halward.  “But what was the first thing you did when your precious heir refused to play pretend for the rest of his life?” His expression crumpled with pain and betrayal. “You tried to _change_ me!”

“I only wanted what was best for you!” Halward protested. Reminded me of my mother talking about my becoming Tranquil.

“You wanted what was best for _you_!” Dorian retorted, “For your _fucking_ legacy! Anything for that!” He turned from Halward again and walked away to lean on one of the long tables nearby. I joined him.

He looked sad and lost, which made me want to punch Halward. Instead I said softly, “I think I’ve got the general idea what happened, and you have every right to be angry. Just…don’t leave it like this, Dorian. Not for him — for you. You’ll never forgive yourself.”

He gave me a small, wan smile and sighed. “What you’re asking isn’t easy. Talking is not what I feel like doing with him.” 

“I understand, and I rather feel like punching him in the head myself. But look, if you tell him to go fuck himself and tomorrow while he’s heading home a high dragon falls out of the sky and flattens his carriage, you’ll feel all guilty. If you let him talk, you can still write him off — or not — but at least you’ll know you made the effort to be the better man even after he did the unforgiveable.”

He stared at the tabletop, hands half-clenched, for a long moment. Finally he looked at me with that same wan smile. “Well, when you put it that way…I suppose I can let him talk.”

“I’ll leave you alone if it’d make it easier,” I offered.

“Wait a few minutes. If I think it’s worth it, I’ll let you know.”

I nodded. “I’ll wait for you outside.”

Dorian approached his father. “Tell me why you came,” he said flatly.

“If I knew I would drive you to the Inquisition…” Halward said, as if that was the biggest problem facing them. I walked over to the door, waiting to see if I should leave.

“You didn’t,” Dorian said. “I joined the Inquisition because it’s the right thing to do. Once I had a father who would have known that.” He turned to leave.

“Once I had a son who trusted me,” the Magister said. “A trust I betrayed. I only wanted to talk to him. To hear his voice again. To ask him to forgive me.”

Dorian’s eyes met mine. I gave him a nod and murmured, “I’ll go get us a room.”

He turned back to his father and I slipped out the door.


	8. Modern Love

By the time Dorian emerged from the Gull and Lantern looking grim and exhausted, I was waiting for him on a nearby bench in the courtyard. I fell in beside him and said, “This way.” He allowed me to lead him to the inn (the Tradewinds, naturally) and up to the room I’d taken for the night. 

Only then did he look around and say, “What’s this?”

I smiled. “It’s a room. Actually, it’s a suite if you want to be picky. Has a whole other room through that door.  You’d be surprised, the number they’ve got stored here.”

He gave me a tired smile back. “But what’s all _this_?”

I’d had food and drinks brought up. There were meats and cheeses and savory breads with condiments and fresh fruit all laid out on a sideboard, along with a few different bottles of wine. The beer I’d gotten for myself was on top of a set of drawers nearby. 

I shrugged. “Neither one of us has eaten and I thought you might not be feeling sociable after that.”

“I—thank you, Kai. You’re right.” He paused as though he was going to continue speaking, instead looking around the room like it was an alien landscape.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I don’t know yet. Overwhelmed? I haven’t yet decided whether I feel angry or relieved.” He raked his hands through his hair. “I do know I’m very glad you were with me. _Are_ with me.”

I said, “Dorian…” and waited until his eyes met mine. “You can tell me to fuck off if you want, but now that your deep, dark secret about your predilections is out in the open…”

He stared at me just long enough that I started to feel terrified he _would_ tell me to fuck off. Then he smiled softly and said, “I have been torturing you, haven’t I? I’m sorry. Somehow I don’t feel like doing that anymore.”

And with that he closed the gap between us and wrapped his arms around me.

I pulled him closer and he felt exactly like I’d imagined, with smooth muscle moving under warm skin, his hands strong, a light current of magic running through them and him, meeting then blending with the same current that was a part of me. He smelled of magic and spices and a touch of sweat that wasn’t unpleasant. His moustache tickled slightly as he brushed his lips against the side of my neck, his breath warm and soft when he exhaled. As we were roughly the same height and build, there was no difficulty with logistics — we fit together like we’d been molded for that purpose.

I breathed in deeply then pulled back enough to look him in the eyes. They were bright, but not just with awe at how wonderful that embrace was. He was hurting after that talk with his father, and because of that I didn’t want to rush anything. 

I smiled teasingly. “You feel just as wonderful as you’ve always claimed, but really, the amount it took to get you to admit something so simple is verging on ludicrous.”

He slid his hands down my back to rest lightly on my hips. It pleased me no end that he didn’t seem to want to let go of me. He sighed. “I was doing it for you, Kai.”

“For me?” I demanded. “How was any of that for me? I understood playing hard to get at first, but honestly—”

“Honestly, you’re the Inquisitor and I’m a suspect Vint mage. I was thinking of you. How it would look.”

I sent a low current of electricity through my hands and his eyes widened. “How it would look. Did I seem concerned about how it would look?” 

“No,” he admitted, “But Kai, the ones who’d be offended wouldn’t say it to your face.”

“And that’s your whole reason? Why didn’t you just _talk_ to me?”

He sighed and gave me an ironic smile. “I suppose there may have been a touch of playing hard to get as well.”

“A _touch_? If that’s a touch I’d hate to see the full-on version. Or maybe it’s me. I’ve not had a great deal of experience with protracted flirting, though they probably teach classes in it in Tevinter. Seriously, I had exhausted my repertoire and was getting obvious and I’d think you _were_ responding then you’d bloody shut me down only to start flirting again.” 

“In a controlled manner,” he countered, sending his own little frisson of electricity into me. I gave a small gasp as things reacted regardless of my determination to hold off.

“To what end?” I asked. “Claims of altruism get a little specious when I was making it rather clear I didn’t just want to have interesting chats about magical theory with you, much as I enjoy those. I was beginning to think you were just enjoying making the barbarian suffer.”

He frowned. “You’re no barbarian. You’re…remarkable.”

“Well…remarkably patient, anyway,” I amended (even though I was privately thrilled to hear him say that). “Look, I know what Tevinter thinks of the south. It’s probably deserved to some extent. But you should have let me know. I haven’t had enough experience with relationships to shrug things off and not worry about it.”

He quirked a little smile. “I get the impression that you’re not a ‘shrug things off and forget about it’ type of man regardless.”

“Yes, well…” He was right, but that wasn’t what I wanted to discuss. “Regardless, would you mind explaining why you acted like the news that you’re partial to men should’ve knocked me on my arse with shock?” 

He at least had the grace to look embarrassed. “That was not my finest moment. I suppose that means I didn’t have you fooled with the rugged façade I put on?”

“I have to confess I don’t really understand why you’d want to hide it in the first place. To what purpose? You don’t strike me as someone who gets their kicks leading women on and…isn’t that what the problem between you and your father’s all about? Wanting you to pretend you’re not attracted to men?”

He sighed. “And then I come here and proceed to do precisely that. I know. Perhaps you should have second thoughts about wanting to get involved with me.”

I snorted. “Oh, no. You don’t get off that easily. I would like to know how long you were planning on dragging things out, though.”

He looked away, running his hands up my sides and back down to my hips before meeting my eyes again with a little, self-deprecating smile. “I…sometimes overthink things. I _am_ sorry. I had no idea I was making you feel that badly. If—if we do go ahead with whatever this might become, people will talk, you know. They may say I’m using you, or that you’re betraying the south by taking up with me.”

I sent a slightly stronger current through my hands. Not enough to hurt — just enough to tingle alarmingly. He started and gave me a crooked smile. “Dorian. Listen to me carefully. I am well aware what sort of gossip our becoming a _thing_ is likely to engender. I also couldn’t care less. I did not seek this job, yet I’m surprisingly good at it. I’m also the only one that can close the bloody rifts. All of which means they need me more than I need them.”

He let go of me to rake his hands through his hair and smooth it again. “And when they say I’m influencing you?”

I folded my arms across my chest. “What of it? I’m sure they already say that. I’ve also got a dwarf, a Grey Warden, a mad elf girl and now a Qunari spy who could well be influencing me.”

“But you wouldn’t be—”

“Banging them?” I finished for him with a grin. 

Now he smirked. “Getting a bit ahead of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Merely extrapolating a possible outcome. All I’m asking right now is that you stop playing games and give this a chance to become whatever it’s going to become.”

“Quite a tall order, Inquisitor,” he said, pretending at being pensive. “Who knew you could be this demanding?”

“I’m a patient man, but not that patient. Well?”

“You know my father probably thinks we already are a couple.”

“Then let’s let him be correct about one thing.”

“You’re very persuasive when you want to be,” he said. “All right. I admit I’d like to see what might develop between us, though I certainly wasn’t expecting this.”

“Expectations are overrated. Now I’ve just two more things. One — you need to eat.”

“I think I need that wine more at the moment.”

“So have both,” I said with a shrug.

“And the other thing?”

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you for a small eternity. It would be both cruel and counterproductive of you to continue denying me that pleasure since you’ve admitted you’re interested.”

“Has anyone ever told you you talk too much?” 

He pulled me to him and we kissed. His lips were soft and warm and he put just a little force into his kiss, so I put a little more back. He ran his hands up my back, casting just enough heat to leave a trail of warmth. I countered with a low, protracted electrical charge as I slid my hands from his shoulders to buttocks and back up. All the while we continued kissing until he pulled back with a gasp.

“ _Venhedis_. If we don’t stop right now, I shan’t be responsible for what happens next.”

I grinned, feeling rather breathless myself. “Much as I’d like to throw caution to the winds, I agree this isn’t the time. Want a drink?”

“Several,” he said, crossing to the sideboard. He opened a bottle of wine and gave me a heated look. “You surprised me, you know. I didn’t expect that from you.”

“You were expecting something chaste and hesitant?”

He snort-laughed but didn’t deny it.

“I’m no Chantry boy and I daresay I’m a bit older than you,” I said. “I have dimensions you’ve not even imagined.”

He took a sip of wine, looking at me with a speculative smile. “So I see. As I’ve told you, I have a very vivid imagination. We’ll have to see if you can live up to that claim.”

_=#=_

We ate and talked of inconsequential things. Afterwards, I settled on the couch with my beer on the small end table to my left. Dorian drifted over to the window, looking out it though I don’t think he was seeing anything.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

He turned from the window. “No. Not really.” He gave me a pained smile. “He says we’re alike. Too much pride. Once I would have been overjoyed to hear him said that. Now I’m not certain.”

I said carefully, “You said he tried to change you? Something about blood magic? If you’re okay talking about it now.”

“I don’t know that I’ll ever be okay with it, but you deserve to know.” He took a sip of wine and set the glass down with a little more force than necessary. It wobbled for a moment before settling on the table. 

“He did try to change me, out of desperation. I wouldn’t put on a show, marry the girl, keep everything unsavoury private and locked away.” He turned partway back to the window, his expression sad and distant. “Selfish, I suppose, not to want to spend my entire life screaming on the inside.” His eyes narrowed as his expression hardened. “He was going to do a blood ritual. Alter my mind. Make me… _acceptable._ I found out. I left.”

I doubted it was that simple but wasn’t going to press for details at the moment. What he was saying was horrifying. “I’m no expert in blood magic — could he have actually succeeded?”

He turned from the window. “Maybe. It could also have left me a drooling vegetable. It crushed me to think he found that absurd risk preferable to scandal. Part of me has always hoped he didn’t really want to go through with it. If he had… I can’t even imagine the person I would be now. I wouldn’t like that Dorian.”

“Nor would he, I suspect. It wouldn’t be _you_.” I wanted to embrace him again, but it wasn’t the time. “What your father did was wrong,” I said instead.

Dorian sighed. “I think he knows that. It’s just hard for him to admit. Too bad he’ll never understand why.”

I snorted. “I’ll never understand why blood magic is supposed to solve everything.”

He gave me a cynical smile. “The lure of the shortcut. Hard for anyone to resist. Many of the magisters have convinced themselves it’s the only way to get ahead and maintain an edge over their rivals, though none of them admit to practicing it. Father used to mean it when he disparaged those who resorted to it.”

He took a few steps towards me. “Thank you for bringing me out here. It wasn’t what I expected, but…it’s something. Maker knows what you must think of me now, after that whole display.”

“I don’t think less of you,” I said, debating on whether I should stand up. “More, if possible.”

He gave me a crooked little smile. “The things you say.”

“I mean it.” Fuck it. I stood, taking a drink of beer on the way up.

“My father never understood. Living a lie… it festers inside of you, like poison. You have to fight for what’s in your heart.”

“I agree.”

This time I didn’t ask, politely or otherwise. I just kissed him. And this time he smiled and kissed me back. I ran a hand through his hair — it was soft and clean — and trailed it down his neck and shoulder as we broke apart.

He raised an eyebrow. “I see you enjoy playing with fire.”

I grinned, raising my right hand to let tendrils of flame play around it, forming a swirling ball of fire that shot up to the ceiling, winking out a moment before it hit. “I always have.”

He chuckled. “I’m beginning to believe you. At any rate, I have dutifully eaten — time to drink myself into a stupor. It’s been that sort of day. Join me?”

“Love to. Why do you think I got us this suite?”

He smirked. “Blind optimism?”

I honestly don’t remember much of what we talked about that night, as we made good on the intent to get seriously drunk, but I know I enjoyed every moment of it. Dorian was open and animated in a way I’d never seen, and I was similarly relaxed for what felt like the first time since sometime before the Conclave. We stayed away from subjects like his father, or the Inquisition or anything political, and simply had a long, meandering conversation about anything that came to mind, from the silly to the sublime. Here and there the dialogue was punctuated by — as Sera would say — snogging. We were both content to keep it to that level for the time being.

_=#=_

I woke feeling congested, which always happens when I’ve drank too much, and urgently needing to empty my bladder. Faced with that unpleasant reality, I had no choice but to get up. Dorian was asleep next to me, buried under the covers with only his hair showing. He was snoring softly.

I took a moment to marvel at the fact that he was sleeping beside me, but only a moment before hauling myself out of bed. I was shirtless but still had my trousers on, so I assumed that confirmed we’d kept things to early relationship level (or more likely, we were too drunk to do anything more than pass out). I pulled on my shirt and boots and made the trek to the facilities, which were down the hall at the end of the floor. Having accomplished that, I returned to the suite long enough to lace up my boots properly, blow my nose and ascertain that Dorian was still fast asleep.

I went in search of coffee.

The common room of the inn was sparsely populated as I’d arrived late in the morning, but they had coffee and that’s all I cared about. I’d been a little worried they wouldn’t, because…well, Ferelden. 

The innkeeper handed me a large mug and the assurance that there would be more when I was ready. I turned to look for a good table and saw a familiar form, though I’d never seen him seated. I debated just walking the other direction but I was congested, perhaps still a tiny bit drunk, and as yet uncoffeed. Though it was probably unwise, I really liked the idea of being a momentary dark lining on Halward Pavus’s silver cloud of Magisterial privilege.

So before I took a drink of coffee and let logic and good sense prevail, I strode to his table and set down my mug, saying, “Magister. Do you mind?”

He didn’t startle, but he blinked at least. “Inquisitor? Please, have a seat.”

I was already sitting by then, but said “Thank you,” anyway. I finally took a drink of coffee.

“Is there something I can do for you?” he asked. His expression was smoothly bland but his eyes were alert and wary.

“We weren’t properly introduced yesterday. When I saw you here, I thought I’d be remiss not to see to it that we were. After all, even though I assume you’re here as a private citizen, you _are_ both a Magister and related to a key member of my organization.” I gave him a friendly-with-daggers look.

“Under the circumstances, I didn’t imagine the Inquisitor would be interested in us meeting,” he said smoothly.

“Quite the contrary. I’ve never met a Magister before. At least, not one who was in his right mind,” I amended.

“You’re referring to Gereon Alexius,” he said.

I looked at him blandly. “If you say so.”

“Ah. I shouldn’t presume.” He gave me a thin smile. “But then, neither should you.”

“I don’t,” I countered, pausing to drink more coffee. He finished his cup of tea and signalled for another. “But I do observe and assess.”

“Though I’m sure you’re quite talented, I don’t know that a southerner is equipped to assess Tevinter matters accurately.” He nodded his thanks to the server. I requested more coffee.

“I’ll concede that on some Tevinter matters, but not all,” I said. 

He stirred his tea and sighed. “Does he know you’re down here?”

“No. I didn’t even know _you_ were down here.”

“But you couldn’t resist?”

I downed my coffee and traded my empty mug for the full one the server handed me. “I suppose not. Call it an imp of the perverse, but I had to talk to you myself.”

“You are more than his commander, then.” He couldn’t quite keep the look of distaste off his face.

“Does it matter?”

“I suppose it doesn’t any more, does it?” he said glumly. 

“No. But whether he’s merely a close friend or something more, might I say something?”

“I can’t stop you.”

I gave him a hard smile. “No, you can’t. That was my polite way of requesting you listen.”

“Going to tell me what a monster I am?”

“No, Magister. I’ll leave that to you, if you can truly see the why of it. I’d just like to ask that you put your social status and dynastic desires aside for a moment and consider what I say.”

He took another sip of tea and rested his elbows on the table. “All right, Inquisitor, I’m listening.” I wasn’t convinced of that, but proceeded anyway.

“I don’t know whether to credit you, your wife, or your nannies, but someone did things right with Dorian. He’s a remarkable man.”

“I know that,” he said.

I raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Do you really? I find that difficult to believe.”

“He’s my son,” Halward said, giving me a hard look.

“Who you were willing to chance destroying in order to fulfill his destiny as breeding stock?”

He scowled. “You don’t understand. Dorian is not _a_ scion of House Pavus — he is _the_ scion of House Pavus.”

“That’s unfortunate. Still not worth it. It’s not like you were trying to give him a more fashionable haircut. Perhaps you don’t understand how brilliant he truly is? Or how creative and astoundingly moral?”

“Of course I do. And if he’d just do his duty to his class and country, it would never have come to this. I had no choice!”

I snorted. “There’s always a choice. Some are just less pleasant than others. They might even be in someone else’s best interests rather than yours.”

“That’s an awfully high-handed statement,” he said, lips thinning with tension.

 “ _I’m_ high-handed? You _assumed_ Dorian was going to become exactly what you envisioned. He’s not. That’s not his fault.”

“For a time, he _was_ everything I envisioned,” he said wistfully, eyes going distant.

“You thought.”

He glared at me. “Inquisitor, with all due respect, you don’t understand the gravity of his refusal to put aside this foolishness.”

“I could as easily say you don’t understand the gravity of calling it ‘foolishness’.”

“House Pavus is one of the oldest and most venerable in the Tevinter Empire. Dorian’s stubbornness will result in its ceasing to exist.”

“Perhaps you should have considered possible futures when you decided to pin all your hopes on Dorian. If you were that bloody worried, you and your wife may have wanted to put your personal feelings aside to ensure you had a backup. There’s all manner of things that can go wrong when your plan is completely dependent on a single component, even when you’ve all the power in the world.”

“That’s the sort of flip answer I’d expect from Dorian.”

“Thank you, but it’s not flip. It’s prosaic and it’s a basic tenet of strategic thinking, something I’d expect a Magister to excel at. You’re now expecting him to pay for your poor planning and you were perfectly willing to destroy him to accomplish your agenda. I find that vile.”

“You overstep,” he said, his entire face tight with anger.

“If you say so, but I would _never_ hurt him like you have. He’s your _son._ He looked up to you and trusted you and you betrayed that. I really don’t give a fuck about your reasons. They’re not good enough.” I finished my coffee as he stared at the table, the anger replaced by a blank look that I hoped contained some shame.

“I’m sure I’ve worn out my welcome, so I’ll take my leave,” I said, standing. “Know this, Halward — for as long as Dorian chooses to stay, I’ll ensure nothing is done to change the very things that make him the remarkable man he’s become. I hope you can be happy about that one day.”

I had turned away when he said, “Inquisitor.”

I turned back without speaking.

His eyes met mine. He looked tired. “May I have your name?”

“Kai. Kai Trevelyan,” I amended. 

He gave a shallow nod. “Kai. Take care of him…better than I did. It’s cold down here.”

I gave him an answering nod and walked away.

_=#=_

 

When I returned to our suite, Dorian wasn’t there. I had a moment of pure, panicked dread, picturing him leaving a tersely worded note stating the night before was a mistake and he was leaving. _Or he’s using the facilities,_ I told myself firmly. But I checked for a note just in case.

Moments later he walked in, hair still standing in disorderly spikes from sleep, wearing his trousers and an undershirt. He smiled when he saw me and put my fears to rest by embracing me, asking, “Where’ve you been?”

“Had to get coffee. I can’t wake up properly without it.” We kissed and he released me, sitting down to pull on his boots.

“I take it from your pleasant disposition that they have it here?”

“Yes, thankfully. How did you sleep?”

He gave me a crooked smile. “Soddenly. It was probably best you weren’t here when I awoke. I had a ghastly headache and would have shattered all your illusions of my eternally sparkling personality. You weren’t hung over?”

“I rarely am. But be warned, until I’ve had coffee I’m told I’m prone to excessive sarcasm.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He tightened the buckles marching up the sides of his boots and settled back in his chair, crossing his legs at the ankle. “Kai…now that we’re in the cold light of day, are you still sure about this — us?”

I sat on the couch across from him. “You need to ask? Dorian, I’ve rarely been this sure of anything. Don’t even think of trying to backslide now. Unless…?”

“Oh, no.” He shook his head, smiling. “I’m committed to this, no matter how mad it may be to take up with each other. You may live to regret it.”

“I doubt that. The regret part, that is.” I thought about the wisdom of saying anything and decided I wasn’t about to start this potential relationship keeping things from him. “Did you know your father’s staying in this very inn? I saw him in the common room when I was getting coffee.”

“Is he, now?” Dorian frowned faintly and gave me a sharp look. “Did you speak with him?”

“I may have introduced myself.” 

“Kai…what did you say to him?”

“Nothing bad,” I said, striving to look innocent. “I told him you’re a key member of the Inquisition, we talked a little about Tevinter and the weather here. I said nice things about you. That’s all.”

“You do know I’ve spent enough time with you to know nothing you do is that simple,” he said.

“You can ask him yourself if you want,” I protested.

“Yes, and even if the two of you had a pitched magical battle in the courtyard he’d tell me everything was perfectly fine.” He shook his head then smiled. “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt this once. I’m sure no matter what was said, he didn’t know what to make of you.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing.”

“Maybe it is,” he agreed. “Whether he’s there or not, I suppose I’ll have to brave the common room in search of sustenance. Have you eaten?”

“Just coffeed. I could use some more, actually.”

“Then care to join me? We can dazzle the local populace.”

“You can do that all on your own, but I’d love to join you. Are you really going to walk out the door with your hair all mussed?”

He gave me a withering look. “Please. You may as well suggest I’d shop for additions to my wardrobe here.”

“For all you know brown homespun could be the next big fashion trend.”

He fetched his comb and parked himself in front of the mirror. “Now you’re just creating nightmare fantasies for the sake of it. Is this what I should expect from now on?”

“I intend to provide you endless vistas of novelty, but never before I’ve had coffee.”

He studied himself in the mirror and made a small adjustment to the tips of his moustache. “Endless vistas? I’ll hold you to that. I believe I’m now ready to descend to the common room, though once I enter it should by rights no longer be called ‘common’.”

I made a noise of agreement as I stood. “Before we leave…” I said and pulled him to me for a kiss.

“You continue that and we’ll never get out of this room,” he said with a smirk. 

“I am painfully aware that the closer we get to Skyhold, the more I’ll be hearing words like ‘caution’ and ‘discretion’. You can’t blame me for wanting to be at least a little daring and indiscreet while I can, particularly after you played coy for so long.”

“You do present a good argument,” he said, running his hands down my back and applying a little electric charge before pulling away. “However, I’m feeling a gnawing hunger that’s getting difficult to ignore.”

“I guess I could eat too,” I allowed.

“I’ve also had no coffee.”

“Your resilience leaves me in awe. What if we see your father?”

“We could leave him with the bill.”

_=#=_

We didn’t see Halward Pavus in the common room or anywhere else. I don’t know if he was avoiding Dorian — or me — or if he’d already left. Dorian appeared simultaneously relieved and disappointed by his father’s absence. When we finished eating, we returned to our suite to pack our belongings.

Dorian had been rather quiet and pensive since we entered the room. I didn’t try to get him talking, figuring he would when he felt like it.

As he was cinching his traveling bag shut he said quietly, “He’s a good man, my father. Deep down. He taught me principle is important. He cares for me, in his way, but he won’t ever change. I can’t forgive him for what he did. I won’t.”

“I understand,” I said just as quietly. I could have said more, and part of me wanted to, but I felt it wouldn’t help. I only added, “You’re more than justified, and no matter what, you have my support.”

“Thank you. This last few days has been…exhausting. I can only imagine what you really think.” He leaned against the dresser, looking sad and a little lost.

“I told you what I really think. I can reiterate all the positive and flattering particulars if you like.”

He gave a small, disbelieving laugh. “I can’t imagine why you hold me in such high regard.”

“Then you’ll just have to reconcile yourself to it. I’m more surprised you’d be interested in me.”

He cocked his head to the side like a curious kitten. “Why would that surprise you?”

“Seriously? Look at you. I’m no dog’s dinner, but I’ll never be called handsome. _Intense_ is what I normally get.”

“Well, you are intense,” he said easily. “It’s one of your more fascinating qualities. I’ll allow you’re not _classically_ handsome, but that doesn’t equate to being unattractive. I happen to find you stunning. Besides, I’ve perfected classically handsome and elevated it to art, so if we’re to be together, you’re much more dramatic as a counterpoint. I fear if you _were_ classically handsome, you’d just come across as a weak imitation.”

I laughed. “In the face of that logic, I guess I’ll stop worrying. Though how you managed to turn a compliment to me into a celebration of your own good looks…”

“It’s simple when one tells the truth. So you mustn’t be concerned. We look fabulous together. I must say I never thought I’d find myself with a bald man, though.”

I ran a hand over my head self-consciously then realized what I was doing. “I don’t really want to grow my hair out, but—”

“Don’t you dare. I can’t say why, but on you it looks attractive.”

“Well, that’s a relief. Truthfully, I feel the same about your moustache.”

“This _is_ a day for revelations.” He looked around the room. “Well. It appears we’re finished here. Ready to head back?”

“I suppose,” I said.

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re not going to go back to pretending we’re just friends when we get back, are you? I mean, I understand a degree is discretion is desirable, at least at first, but I’ve had quite enough of pretending to be an icon of the joys of solitude just to keep what Sera calls the Chant-pounders happy.”

He chuckled, moved close and kissed me soundly. “I promise you — no more keeping you at arm’s length. I’m sure Mother Giselle will have fits.”

“Good. I hope so. You should have seen how eager she was that I lure you up here so they could drag you back to Tevinter. I seriously suspect she contacted your father in the first place.”

We shouldered our bags and left the room, dropping off the key as we exited. The stables were just around back of the inn. We stood to one side, waiting for the hands to bring our horses. 

Dorian was once again quiet and thoughtful until we had left town. He looked out over the lightly wooded landscape, pretty now that the fighting had largely ceased, and said, “I am surprised Father came all the way down here. It’s very unlike him. Last time…”

I waited, but he stayed silent. “Too soon?” I asked.

He glanced over at me with a small smile. “I’m afraid so. I _will_ tell you the whole sordid tale, but after everything that’s just happened…”

“I understand. I’m surprised he didn’t at least try to say goodbye to you before we left.”

Dorian shook his head. “He’s stubborn. He undoubtedly thinks he said his piece. Or perhaps you _did_ scare him. I find it difficult to believe you were as benevolent as you say.”

“How could I scare your father?”

He gave me a narrow look. “I’d love to know that.”


	9. Hang On to Yourself

The ride back to Skyhold was remarkably pleasant, mostly because I had Dorian to myself for a few days, and even the weather cooperated. It stayed unusually warm and sunny the entire way — a few of those late autumn days that suddenly decide to act like summer’s returned. 

Relationship-wise, we’d agreed to take it slow. I know I felt a near-superstitious dread that if we rushed into a full-blown romance it would fully blow up in our faces. Dorian didn’t say, but I got the impression the very idea of being in a relationship was scaring him to death. So we kept the physical stuff at snogging level and were carefully avoiding anything that felt too deep and real. 

I suppose that made us both abject cowards, but in my case, Dorian was literally the first man I’d been with that I was actually developing _feelings_ for, and those feelings were intense enough that — along with an unexpected euphoria — I found them a little terrifying. Though he didn’t say at the time, Dorian’s feelings were essentially the same.

The countryside we rode through was still sparsely populated and scarred from all the recent fighting, but it was starting to recover. Plant life was already filling in areas cleared by troops and wayward fire spells, with high grasses and low shrubs swallowing ruined, abandoned equipment and buildings whole. The packed earth roads we travelled were pitted here and there, but on the whole were amazingly intact and in tolerable repair. Inns had reopened along the route, so we didn’t have to concern ourselves with camping.

That isn’t to say it was completely safe. I suppose Leliana would have been annoyed that we didn’t hire any outriders to accompany us, but the fact was we were more than capable of handling just about any threat that might arise.

We got set on by a band of four Red Templars near the turn-off to the Frostbacks, but we managed to defeat them without getting so much as a scratch.  To be honest, I had fun. Rarely had I been able to cut loose, magically speaking, and even more rarely working with another mage who equalled or perhaps even surpassed my ability. We’d come close during Inquisition missions, but this was the first time we hadn’t had to worry about the location of other members of our party. It may sound bloodthirsty, but being able to fire a full-on plasma bolt into a Red Templar’s head and watch it explode felt _good_ , and I loved watching Dorian’s necromantic spells wreak terror on our foes (and one who, after a short delay, exploded; I’d love to learn that spell one day). Besides, they attacked us first.

The rest of the trip was uneventful and we arrived back at Skyhold on the evening of the second day. We dropped off the horses at the stable and went in through one of the lesser-used doors on the lower level. 

“I suppose I’d best let them know we’re back,” I said with a sigh.

“With any luck, it’s late enough they’ll give you till tomorrow to start Inquisiting again,” Dorian said. “Besides, given the only door to your quarters is in the main hall, we can’t exactly sneak up there and my quarters are a little _too_ cozy.”

“True. If we go to my quarters we could get food sent up. Drinks too.”

“What, no floor show?”

“Would you really like that considering the only full-time entertainment here is Maryden and she won’t stop singing about the exploits and personnel of the Inquisition?”

He stroked the patch of hair below his lower lip. “When you put it that way… Fancy a game of chess?”

We stopped by the kitchen to arrange for a late meal to be brought up (along with drinks) in one hour, then parted. While Dorian went to shower off the road dust and horsey smell, I cast a quick clean-up spell and went in search of Leliana.

She was in her semi-official office above the library as I’d hoped. I climbed the stairs, eliciting restless croaking from the ravens, to find her at the wooden table near the doorway, writing what appeared to be a letter. She looked up at my approach and smiled. “You’re back. Good. How did it go with Magister Pavus?”

Naturally she knew Halward had been in Redcliffe, probably before we did. 

“Dorian’s back too.” I sat on the bench across from her. “Anything happen while I was gone that I need to know about?”

“You got an invitation to a party.”

I wrinkled my nose at her. “A party? What sort of party and whose?”

“They call her Madame de Fer. Her name is Vivienne, and she is the Court Enchanter to Empress Celene.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Do we need someone called the Iron Lady? And what kind of enchanter is she? Between myself, Dorian and Solas we’re already well set power-wise.”

Leliana gave me a cynical smile. “She’s the ambitious kind. She is also a powerful mage in her own right, and would certainly be able to hold her own in combat. More to the point, she could be a valuable ally with her contacts in Orlais.”

“They’re not the same as the contacts you already have?”

“She has the ear of Empress Celene. That may make it easier to approach Celene and convince her of the reality of the threat against her.”

“You think I should talk to her, then?”

“There would be no harm and much potential benefit,” she said. “One thing you may wish to know ahead of time — she’s a Loyalist.”

I frowned. Loyalists were mages who — for some benighted reason — thought the old Circle system of locking mages away for life with fucking Templars watching their every move under the aegis of the Chantry was grand, and should be reinstated. “Then I have nothing to say to her.”

“Inquisitor — Kai — you do not have to agree with her. Her endorsement could be most helpful for our cause.”

I sighed. “When’s the party?”

“You’ve a choice of fetes. She understands you may have more pressing matters to attend to.”

“Oh, goody. Where would I have to go?”

She smiled faintly. “Her estate is just outside Val Royeaux. You could make a day of it. Have a luxurious luncheon in the city. Buy shoes.”

“You mean boots. I don’t do shoes.”

“As you will. At least consider it. You do not have to decide right away.”

“Fine, I’ll consider it. If there’s nothing else, I’m going to get a late dinner with Dorian.”

She waved me away. “Enjoy your meal. We shall meet in the morning, yes?”

“Not _too_ early,” I countered. “I just got back. I’ll need coffee.”

“Do not worry, I took your coffee addiction into account.”

I rolled my eyes and raised my hand in a parting wave.

Dorian was waiting down in the library. As if to assuage my worries, he greeted me by pulling me into a quick but satisfying kiss. He smelled of soap, and was wearing dark trousers tucked into high boots and a loose, dark blue shirt with tight cuffs that shimmered slightly when he moved. “I assumed you’d see me if I waited here,” he said.

“Very nice,” I said with a smile. “Did anyone ever tell you you clean up well?”

“Was there any question I would? So — are you unfettered for the night?”

“Yes. Leliana’s been informed of our return. Anything else we can discuss over food.”

We didn’t make a big show of it, but neither did we make a secret of our trek to my quarters, where we spent a thoroughly enjoyable evening playing chess (Dorian beat me two games out of three), talking and indulging in some minor snogging. He insisted on returning to his own quarters at the end of the evening, which was sensible, but I couldn’t help being a trifle disappointed.

_=#=_

The next several days were busy ones. Josie had lined up a series of nobles and suppliers I needed to meet with. Most of them just involved making nice for a few minutes and assuring them they were important to us and appreciated, but a few were unsure or downright suspicious and needed some careful negotiation to get them on board. My advisors seemed shocked that I was able to get them to not only agree to what we wanted, but do it cheerfully. I could have told them I learned all about being diplomatic during my two years as a scrivener in Ostwick, but preferred to let them wonder.

Other than that, there was a never-ending list of minutiae to deal with. Cullen and Cass both wanted to talk about military and tactical issues surrounding the ongoing problem with the Red Templars, so I set them to mostly talking with each other about how best to deal with it. Our mages had quite reasonably requested a space where they could practice and develop spells, but trying to get that constructed was proving to be a pain in the arse. We had the materials to build a classic mage tower, but we needed people to build the thing, and there were still major repairs to be done to the main buildings. There were also a load of former templars having nervous fits about allowing mages to actually practice magic on the grounds, and it fell to me to get them to calm the fuck down about it.

Whenever I did have some free time, Dorian and I spent it together, which improved my outlook on life exponentially. So far we’d neither tired of one another nor had even one serious disagreement, and where previously his flirting had had a superficial gloss to it, now there was real feeling to it that showed in his words and expression. I wasn’t sure how long we’d be able to stick to ‘taking it slow’, and that was fine too.

The fact that things were going that well should have given me some clue, but I was caught off guard when Leliana requested a short meeting in Josephine’s office. I was running different troublesome nobles through my mind, but she and Josie weren’t. I suppose I should have been pleased they didn’t invite Cullen to join in.

They gave me identical smiles and Leliana said, “Kai. Let’s all sit down, shall we?” She led the way to the informal collection of chairs in front of the fireplace.

“No war room?” I asked.

“No, this is not that sort of meeting,” Josie said, setting her portable tablet on the coffee table in front of her.

“What sort of meeting is it?” I was beginning to think it had nothing to do with troublesome nobles.

“Just informational. We wanted to do some catching up, ensure we’re all of one outlook,” Leliana said.

I looked at them suspiciously. “And what is it we need to be of one outlook concerning?”

They glanced at each other then Leliana said, “Inquisitor — Kai — it’s come to some people’s attention that, particularly since you returned from Redcliffe, you appear to have developed a… _close_ relationship with Dorian Pavus.”

“Oh? Which people would those be? Has someone complained?” I said blandly.

“There has been some concern expressed—”

I frowned slightly. “Ladies, would you do me the favour of just telling me straight out? Who’s got their knickers in a knot about what and how serious do you consider it?”

Josie said, “First things first — _should_ we consider the two of you an item?”

I couldn’t help smiling. “Yes. If things don’t go sideways, we will continue to be an item, so people may as well get used to it.”

“You realize the fact that he’s Tevinter could be problematical,” Leliana said.

“Yes, I’ve taken that into consideration, as has Dorian. I can also guess who’s the most _concerned_ about it. Interfering old bat.”

“I do not believe we named names,” Leliana said. She sounded chiding, but looked like she was biting back a smirk.

“Mother Giselle.”

“She _has_ approached us, but she is not the only one,” Josephine said. “There is concern that he may…influence you.”

I snorted. “Of course there is. They’d say the same thing if I took up with The Iron Bull.”

Josie made an odd choking noise as Leliana said, “This is something you need to take seriously.”

“I do. But maybe you should ask Mother Giselle how it was Halward Pavus knew to contact _her_ of all the people connected to the Inquisition. There’s interfering, then there’s possible sabotage.”

Leliana sighed. “Kai, I know you do not like her, and I agree there is reason to look into her actions, but do not use that to wave off the real concerns this brings up.”

“I’m not, but I also don’t feel inclined to let her get away with stirring people up about it.”

“Perhaps you should leave her to us,” Josie said diplomatically.

“I won’t approach her, but if she approaches me I’m not going to put up with her nonsense,” I said, irritated.

“Fair enough, and I _will_ talk to her,” Leliana said smoothly. “Now reassure us about the two of you.”

I ran a hand across my head. “I would hope the primary concern is his being Tevinter.”

“As opposed to?” Leliana raised an eyebrow.

“He’s also a mage. There are people who are very unhappy I’m a mage, and here in the south there are too many who assume any mage from Tevinter is also a Magister. If there haven’t been mutterings about us trying to implement a Tevinter-style magocracy, I’ll be very surprised.”

“There likely will be if your relationship becomes common knowledge.”

It was my turn to raise an eyebrow. “ _If_? Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear. We won’t advertise, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to skulk around pretending we’re _just friends_ in order to avoid offending some noble twat’s delicate sensibilities or reactionary paranoia.”

“This may lose us some allies,” Josephine warned.

“It might. I say if they’re willing to abandon us over that, they probably weren’t very committed anyway. If there are some that are just nervous and you think it would help, I’ll talk to those, but I draw the line at having no personal life in order to please others.”

“How does Dorian feel about this?” Leliana asked.

“If anything, he’s far more concerned for my sake than I am,” I said. 

“That is reassuring,” Josephine said.

I ran a hand over my head, gave them a steady look. “If I seem intractable about this, understand — I spent eighteen fucking years locked in a Circle, was fully trained then _over_ trained for fourteen of them. I wasn’t allowed a personal life, let alone autonomy. When I left, I got autonomy, but in Ostwick you just don’t get to know people, or at least I never did.  Now, for the first time, I’ve got an opportunity to develop a real relationship with someone I actually care about. At the same time, I have to do this job because I’m the only one who _can_ do one aspect of it and I’m actually good at the rest of its requirements. I don’t mind that because it’s bloody important, but I am _not_ going to subsume myself for this job or any other. I’ll be The Inquisitor, but I’m not going to stop being Kai Trevelyan and that is not negotiable. As far as I’m concerned, I’m owed this.” I took a deep breath. “End of speech. Any questions?”

They both stared at me for several long moments.

With an inscrutable look, Leliana said, “Yes. When should we order the wedding invitations?” And she grinned.

Josie shook her head, also smiling. “How can we argue after that? I will deal with those who have a problem with your relationship as best I can, but I may take you up on your offer to talk to the ones who might be calmed that way.”

“Of course. I’d be happy to. Leliana, certain Chantry members aside, I would appreciate it if we could keep on top of people within Skyhold who attempt to stir up suspicions against myself or Dorian…or anyone else, for that matter. We do have a few other people those on the outside might consider dodgy. I’m not talking about gossip — everyone gossips — but I am willing to play tyrant towards those who take it past that. We don’t need people sabotaging this operation from the inside.”

“We are already on it,” she said with a brisk nod. “I’m pleased to know you understand the importance of internal policing.”

“We’ve had a steady stream of people showing up here to join the Inquisition. We’d be fools to think every one of them is legitimate.” I smiled. “For all we know, my relationship with Dorian might smoke a few of them out. If they already dislike us, my taking up with a Vint might be their last straw.”

Josie sighed. “At least he’s highborn. That alone might assuage many of the Orlesians.”

“Then play that up,” I suggested. “Think what an exotic coup it would be to say a Tevinter Altus was at your last cocktail party.”

“Josie, we should let you get back to work,” Leliana said, standing gracefully. “Kai?”

So she wanted to say something further to me. I stood as well. “I’m sorry if I’ve made your life more complicated, Josephine. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

She returned to her desk. “It is not so bad as all that. We should be saying how happy we are that something good has come out of this terrible situation for you and Dorian.”

I thanked her and accompanied Leliana out the door. She stopped just before we reached the door to the great hall. 

“Something I thought you should know. It dovetails nicely with a trip to meet Madame de Fer.”

“You’re sure this isn’t just a ploy to get me to her fete?” I said teasingly.

“No, this concerns Dorian.”

“Nothing bad, I hope.”

“One of our soldiers spotted him in, shall I say, a _heated debate_ with a man outside Skyhold. I investigated, worried it might have some connection to the Venatori, but this doesn’t seem to be the case. The man is a merchant from Val Royeaux — Ponchard de Lieux. He possesses an amulet which Dorian was attempting to purchase. I am uncertain why they argued, but if you wish to investigate further, he has returned to Val Royeaux.”

“An amulet?” I echoed. I tried to think if there was anything about an amulet we’d discussed, but drew a blank.

“The soldier said he seemed quite upset.”

“Then I’d best get his amulet back. Thank you, Leliana.”

She nodded and smiled. “Perhaps you could see your way clear to attend Madame de Fer’s fete while you’re there?”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine, I’ll go to her party. I’ll even be nice as long as she doesn’t try to recruit my support to reinstate the damned Circles.”

“That is all I can ask. If she should be willing to lend her support to the Inquisition, I’d be most grateful if you’d accept.”

“I’ll give her a fruit basket and a big, sloppy kiss if that’s what it takes,” I promised. “Though hopefully it won’t come to that.”

“How soon do you want to leave?”

“Yesterday. I want to get this amulet of Dorian’s, make my appearance and get back. We’ve already got a trip to the Exalted Plains that needs to get underway.”

“Will as soon as possible do?”

“I suppose it’ll have to.”

“Will Dorian be going with you?”

I thought for a moment. “No. I want to surprise him. Maybe I should just ride there myself. It’d be faster.”

“You would make your advisors much happier if you’d take a coach and outrider. You _are_ the only one who can close the rifts, so I must insist you don’t take unnecessary risks in the name of expedience.”

“Very well.” I had to concede her point. “But make it a fast one, please.”

_=#=_

I went to the library to tell Dorian about my meeting (not mentioning anything about his amulet). As I entered, I saw Mother bloody Giselle facing off with him in what was quite clearly a confrontation. I hastened to join Dorian as she said, “I don’t know what you think you’re doing.”

“I’m being clucked at by a hen, evidently,” Dorian retorted. It was nicer than what I would have said.

“Don’t play the fool with me, young man!” she snapped.

“If I wanted to play the fool, I could be rather more convincing, I assure you.”

“Your glib tongue does you no credit,” she said.

“You’d be surprised the credit my tongue gets, Your Reverence,” he fired back.

I stepped next to Dorian and said, “What’s going on here?”

She fucked right up, stammering, “Uh, I…”

Dorian jumped in smoothly. “It seems the Reverend Mother is concerned about my ‘undue influence’ over you.”

“It _is_ just concern, Your Worship — you must know how this looks.”

She’d utterly changed her tone and bearing, the hypocrite, suddenly acting respectful when in front of Dorian she’d been condescending and rude. 

“You might need to spell it out, dear.” Dorian flashed a welcoming smirk at me.

She ignored him, turning to me with a big, earnest look of concern pasted on her face. “This man is of _Tevinter._ His presence at your side, the rumours alone…”

I looked at Dorian with surprise. “You’re _of Tevinter_? I had no idea.”

“Shocking, I know,” he replied. “And here I thought my cover as an itinerant Antivan assassin and literary critic was intact. It was the wardrobe, wasn’t it? I knew I should have dressed down.”

“ _Inquisitor_ …”

I glared at her. “So he’s Tevinter.  What’s wrong with that? Specifically?”

“I'm fully aware that not everyone from the Imperium is the same,” she said stiffly.

“How kind of you to notice,” Dorian said. 

“You didn’t answer my question. What’s wrong with that?” I reiterated.

“It is not specific to him, Your Grace. It is the perception of the people, no matter how incorrect, I am considering.”

“So you acknowledge I’ve done nothing to warrant these rumours, yet still you bow to the opinion of the masses?” Dorian said.

“The opinion of the masses is based on centuries of evidence. What would you have me tell them?”

He raised an eyebrow. “The truth?”

“The truth is I do not know you, and neither do they. Thus these rumours will continue,” she pronounced smugly.

“Oh? I’d love to hear what these _rumours_ are exactly,” I said with a calm I didn’t feel.

“I…could not repeat them, Your Worship.”

“And if I asked from where these rumours originated, and who’s going to continue them? You’ve shared them before, haven’t you?” I folded my arms over my chest and glared at her. 

She blanched. “I... see. I meant no disrespect, Inquisitor, only to ask after this man's intentions. If you feel he is without ulterior motive, then I humbly beg forgiveness of you both.”

“Well, that’s something,” Dorian said.

“No, it isn’t.” I kept glaring at Mother Giselle. “She damn well meant disrespect when she thought it was just you and her. Let me make something clear, Giselle.  The concerns of the Chantry are not the concerns of the Inquisition. If you have a problem with me or any of my people, you come to _us_ — you do not spread poison behind our backs and hide behind that Chantry costume. We are not required to maintain your presence here, and personally I’d be quite content were the Chantry to exit gracefully from the whole of Skyhold. As that’s unlikely, I expect you to show the same respect to Dorian that you do to me.  Now, I’m sure you have things to do, so good day.”

“Good day, Your Worship… Messere Pavus.” She turned like a ship in a strong wind and sailed out the door.

Dorian was staring at me with a funny little smile. “Where did _that_ come from?”

I shrugged. “She was being terrible to you and I already don’t like her. I’ll be damned if she’s going to get away with that shite.”

“Well, you’re just full of surprises.” 

We moved into his alcove and I leaned against one of the bookshelves. “She didn’t get to you, did she?”

“No, it takes more to get to me than thinly veiled accusations.” His expression turned serious. “But there are rumours."

I frowned. “Are you telling me this sort of thing happens often?”

“More often than anyone tells you.” 

“Is that to spare my feelings or to stop me going off on whoever’s spreading the rumours?”

He smiled. “Both, probably. You do make some people nervous all on your own, even without the job title.” 

I rolled my eyes. “The mage thing, yeah.”

“Well, that and you have a glare that could strip paint. She _did_ mean well, if that’s any concern.”

“Why are you being so charitable towards her?” I groused. “You don’t think she’ll do anything, do you?”

“Do what? Yours is the good opinion I care about, not hers.” He fiddled with the ends of his moustache. “It does make me wonder. _Is_ my influence over you…undue?”

I smiled. “Perhaps, but it's the kind of undue influence I enjoy.”

He chuckled. “No one accused you of being politically astute.”

“Not today. The fact is, I’d just finished a pleasant little chat with Leliana and Josie about the same subject. I was coming up to tell you about it. Seems it’s the day for my giving speeches concerning my private life.”

“What little there is of it,” Dorian observed.

I made a noise of agreement. 

“I should ask…do the rumours bother _you_?”

“I couldn’t care less about what they say about me. I just wish they wouldn't disparage you. They don't know you,” I said irritably.

“They know you even less than they know me.”

That made me smile. “Maybe that’s for the best. The majority of them just want a leader to look up to. They don’t care that I’m actually a person, too. I’d rather let them have the Inquisitor and save Kai for the people who care.”

“Since I’m foremost among the latter, I approve of that attitude. Would you like to get out of here for a bit? I feel as though Mother Giselle overfilled the atmosphere in here.”

“I’d love to. But first—” I pulled him to me and kissed him. “Must keep the rumour mill going, after all.”

_=#=_

As so often happens, it took longer than I wished to coordinate everything for my trip to Val Royeaux. My birthday came and went without anyone but Dorian knowing (I hid, but he found me and I’m glad he did). The rumours didn’t stop, but they slowed down considerably, and reliable sources reported they’d turned more to speculation about what we got up to together rather than whether I’d become a pawn of Tevinter.

When I finally got word I was to leave in the morning, I told Dorian, hoping he wouldn’t be too put out that I was doing this trip alone. Fortunately he was perfectly content. “Believe it or not, a group of our mages have asked me to speak to them.” He looked pleased at the thought.

“You mean someone actually wants to talk about magic rather than squabbling? Perhaps there’s hope for us after all.” 

“Yes. I think they got a bit excited when you told them they’d be getting a proper tower complete with workshops and sparring room. It seems to have reminded them they’re mages.”

“Do they want a crash course in Necromancy?”

“Surprisingly, no, though a few have expressed interest. They honestly want to know about how we practice and teach magic at home. As you told me, there’s quite a lot that the Chantry discouraged, and word that I’m as skilled as I am attractive has reached their ears. I’m to speak to a half dozen of their senior members.” 

“That’s wonderful,” I said. “I’m delighted they’re acknowledging you and putting aside any ridiculous prejudices.”

He squinted at me. “You didn’t have anything to do with this, did you?”

“I swear I didn’t. I’ve been too busy playing Inquisitor. They know we have to leave for the Exalted Plains soon so they’re trying to cram all the diplomatic shite in while they can.”

“Yet they’re sending you off to Val Royeaux?”

I made an unimpressed face. “Yeah, well, apparently this Madame de Fer is terribly influential with the Orlesian court. Leliana and Josie are both practically salivating at the thought of her endorsing us.”

“You don’t share their enthusiasm?”

“She’s a Loyalist.” I may have sneered.

“Perhaps the subject won’t come up. It’s supposed to be a party, after all.”

I snorted. “Orlesians don’t have parties. They have death matches with canapés.”

Dorian grinned. “ _That_ I would pay to see.”

That made me laugh and I felt much better about the stupid party. Besides, I was really going for him.


	10. Let's Dance

When I went to the coach the following morning, I was surprised to find Leliana and one of her lieutenants, an elven woman named Charter, already there.

“We have business in Val Royeaux,” she explained as we boarded the vehicle. “It made sense to combine the trips, not to mention this way we can get you up to speed on Vivienne — Madame de Fer.”

Once we were underway, she and Charter did just that. The Madame hadn’t always been a Madame — she’d been the daughter of Rivaini merchants and hailed from that centre of all things sophisticated, Wycome (that was sarcasm if you’re not familiar with Wycome). In other words, she was just another Marcher.

I was surprised to learn she’d been in the Ostwick Circle when she was young — she was long gone by the time I got there. Oliver (my former First Enchanter) hadn’t mentioned her, but he may not have been there either…or there was just no reason to. 

“How old is she?” I asked.

“We don’t have an exact date, but she was born sometime in the mid-nineties Blessed,” Leliana said. “She’d be roughly ten years older than you, though you wouldn’t know it to look at her.”

“How did a nobody Marcher manage to become Imperial Enchanter in Orlais?”

“They transferred her to Montsimmard at nineteen. We don’t know whether she had a hand in engineering that, but assume there’s a high probability. In 9:16 she was one of the mages invited to the Imperial Wintersend Ball. She caught the eye of Duke de Ghislain, and before you knew it, she had a suite of rooms in his house and no longer resided in the Circle. It caused quite a scandal, naturally.” 

“I take it there was a Lady de Ghislain already?”

“You guess right. Though from all reports, she and Vivienne actually got on reasonably well. Still, the nobles were displeased because she was a mage. Then in 9:20 Celene appointed her Court Enchanter, and she consolidated that into a position of power as Celene’s unofficial advisor. Understand that before Vivienne, that position was considered merely decorative — the court jester had more influence and respect. She is smart, ruthless, talented and fashionable and plays the Game as easily as other people breathe. You would do well to be cautious around her.”

“I already intended that when I thought she was just a powerful Orlesian Loyalist,” I said wryly. “From what you’re telling me, it sounds like Madame’s primary concern is herself and furthering her power and influence. You’re not concerned that she might withdraw her support from the Inquisition or even flip on us if it became expedient?”

“She puts a great deal of stock in public perception,” Leliana replied. “While she could conceivably do as you say, she would let us — and the rest of Orlesian society — know why and ahead of time. She would also go to great lengths to ensure she came out looking the correct and wounded party.”

I nodded. “This changes nothing, but I do appreciate the information. It sounds like I could use all the ammunition I can get.”

“Remember, Inquisitor, all signs point to her being well-disposed to the Inquisition. You should remain on your guard, but you do not need to assume you’re going into battle.”

“Depends on if she tries to start singing the praises of the southern Circle system.”

Conversation wandered off into less political areas after that and proved to be more enjoyable than I’d expected. I’d never talked casually with Leliana before, and barely knew Charter, so I’d been expecting something along the lines of a lot of Chantry talk given Leliana’s position in that organization.

Instead she told tales from her time as a Bard in Orlais and later with the Hero of Ferelden during the fifth Blight. In addition to being far more adventurous than the average Chantry sister, she had a mad fetish for shoes. She also not only owned pet nugs, but bred them. After listening to her tales of them, I found myself rather wanting a nug of my own. She warmed to me considerably when I told her that.

Charter seemed content to let Leliana and me do all the talking. All I really got from her was she’d been a mercenary and spy for a long time and was one of the best in her field. She’d travelled all over Thedas, had an endless reservoir of trivia about nearly every place one could name, and was fond of chocolate.

Conversation eventually wound down and I slept through most of the middle part of the journey, as I’d gotten up far too early for my tastes and hadn’t had nearly enough coffee before leaving.

When we arrived in Val Royeaux, I parted ways with Leliana and Charter. From what I overheard as they walked away, at least part of the business they were there for involved shopping for shoes. My first order of business was to find the merchant Ponchard de Lieux. Leliana had told me what section of town he normally worked from and given me a description (though their bloody obsession with masks made that problematical). It was close enough that I went on foot to the huge plaza and began making a careful circuit of the perimeter where merchants without permanent shops sold all manner of goods.

He had set up shop in an alcove — a bald man in a gold mask, a stylized-martial coat with the stupidest take on pauldrons I’d seen (though as they stuck up vertically from his upper arms, they would make good handles by which to grab and shake him), oatmeal brown trousers and high brown boots. 

I strode up to him and he smiled. “Inquisitor! Good, good, this is exactly what I was hoping for!”

That raised several red flags. I could allow he might recognize me, but why was he hoping for me when it was with Dorian he had the problem?  I said, “Ponchard de Lieux?”

“Yes, yes, one and the same!” He rubbed his hands together. “So delighted to see you.”

“You seem to know why I’m here,” I said.

“I assume it’s because of a certain amulet I purchased from a dark-haired fellow hailing from Tevinter, name of Dorian Pavus. He wanted it back, but was unable to meet the new price.” He gave me a self-satisfied little smile. “The new price included an audience with you.”

I frowned. “You refused to sell Dorian his amulet to get _me_ here? Mission accomplished. What do you want?”

“Do forgive me, Inquisitor, but when I heard of your...association with Monsieur Pavus, I could not resist. You see, he sold me that rather valuable amulet many months ago. Then he returned, asking to buy it back. Why would I simply sell it? Not only is it useful, there are others who could...offer much more.”

I couldn’t see his face above his mouth, but the smarmy gloating in his voice made me want to send a fire bolt straight up his arse. “So you figured I’d have the _much more_ you want, is that it?”

“I am not attempting to manipulate you, my lord. I only wish equitable recompense.”

“And what exactly do you consider ‘equitable recompense’?”

He was practically vibrating with eagerness, the masked weasel. “It's not coin I seek for the amulet, but influence. Influence you possess but which the young man does not. Provided, of course, you...desire the amulet? For your friend?”

_Oh, you mercenary little bastard._ “Are you seriously trying to blackmail me into doing social favours for you?”

“Not blackmail, my lord — such an ugly word — just fair compensation.”

“What’s to stop me from just taking it from you?” I said crossly.

He sniffed. “Errr... One: that I presume His Worship is not a thief. Two: the amulet is not here for you to take.”

“Well, aren’t you clever. What favour is it you’re so keen to get?”

He smiled, clearly thinking he’d won. "The League de Celestine is an organization of wealthy noblemen in Orlais. I would join, but I lack the lineage. If someone like you applied pressure, they would admit me. _That_ would be worth the return of the amulet."

“Uh huh. And you imagine I could make that happen.”

“You _are_ a man of influence these days,” he said with a plummy, false chuckle.

"You must not know who I am beyond being Inquisitor."

"You are a Trevelyan, monsieur. A man of noble blood, a man of honour..."

“Inconsequential. I haven’t moved in those circles for a very long time. Perhaps I should have said you must not know _what_ I am.” I glared at him, waiting.

“What you are? I…am not sure what you’re getting at.”

“Then let me spell it out for you. Like the ‘young man’ you’re using to get to me, I’m a mage before I’m a Trevelyan _or_ the Inquisitor. I’m a bloody powerful one, at that. Perhaps you should consider what you know of mages.” I made no overt show that could attract the attention of the guard, but I cast a small binding spell — just enough to root him where he was standing, unable to move his legs.

“You can’t do this,” he said in strangled tones.

“But I am. You reminded me I’m a Trevelyan as well, so I may as well remind you I could also destroy you socially. Up to you, really, how you want to play this.”

“I’m within my rights,” he said, voice quavering. I suppose I should give him credit for the bravery of sheer greed.

“You’ve the right to fair recompense. I’ll give you more money than it’s worth, but I’ll be damned if you’re going to blackmail me for social favours.” I cast a small electricity spell — not enough to hurt him, just enough to send an alarming jangle through his nerve endings. “You seem to think I’m powerless in the face of your ultimatum. You really want to turn this into a contest?”

He yelped at the unfamiliar sensation. I saw a bead of sweat roll down from behind the mask. “F-Forgive me, Your Worship. If it is your desire, I will have the amulet delivered to Skyhold immediately. Please just think of me kindly. I meant no offense. Surely you can understand what acceptance into the League would mean to me as a purveyor of fine goods.” His voice was now quavering and whiny. It wasn’t much of an improvement.

“You know what you tried is offensive,” I said flatly. “And you won’t deliver it to Skyhold. I’ll be here tomorrow just before midday for it. I’ll pay you and you’ll hand it over. You do that and _perhaps_ I won’t tell certain people in high places about your amateurish attempt to worm your way into the League de Celestine.”

I think that worried him more than my maginess and nobility combined, because he was suddenly falling all over himself in his eagerness to please me. I removed the binding spell then cast one more, making just enough of a show of it that he noticed.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, eyes round and frightened behind his mask.

“Just a small tracking spell so if you aren’t here tomorrow I can find you. Just in case you find yourself detained or were considering leaving town suddenly.” I gave him a hard smile.

He assured me he’d been thinking no such thing just a little too emphatically. I reiterated I’d see him the next day and strode away, feeling simultaneously angry and amused. All I really wanted to do was spend a little time sightseeing, grab a bite to eat and some beer to take to my room at one of the nicer inns, and stay in reading the rest of the night.

Instead, I had a party to attend.

_=#=_

Vivienne’s (or was it the Duke’s?) estate was vast and elegant, done in the same classic style as Halamshiral. I climbed from my coach, dressed in black as always, but they were fine fabrics, a little lighter and more elegantly cut than my normal clothing. I did not wear a mask.

I was announced as “Inquisitor Trevelyan.” Madame de Fer was nowhere to be seen, so I accepted a mixed drink from a passing server and set about mingling.  The large main hall we were in had a floor tiled with geometric designs in white and dark purple. To the left as one entered was a low staircase leading to a wide, raised area circling the main room. From that landing, another staircase, both high and wide, led to the second floor. I saw no guests up there, so I didn’t explore.  There were fountains and statuary throughout the vast room, which was all done in white stone. It was attractive, but in a cold, emotionless way. 

Most of the people I talked to were polite enough, and there was some honest curiosity, but they were definitely checking me out. They wanted to know if the more outrageous stories they’d been hearing — like my being personally rescued and chosen by Andraste herself — were true, but they were also asking superficially harmless questions that would tell them everything from our numbers to our strategic plans and designs we might have on Orlais. I fielded them easily, having expected it. The last leg of our trip to Val Royeaux had been spent drilling with Leliana on exactly those sorts of questions.

I turned down an offer of wine and accepted another mixed drink (vodka with a light, bittersweet juice) when a man descended the staircase and made straight for me. He was dressed in tight, white trousers and a white shirt with big rolls of fabric attached to both shoulders. A brown vest, boots and long gloves, a gold half mask with three feathers sticking out the top and a big, poofy white hat that looked like nothing so much as a collapsed soufflé completed his ensemble.

The first words out of his sophisticated Orlesian mouth were, “The Inquisition? What a load of pig shit.” Having established his thesis, he continued, “Washed-up sisters and crazed Seekers. No one can take them seriously.”

I wondered if he was serious or if this was some kind of set-up. “I’m neither sister nor Seeker and I've never made any claims to holiness. What's your point?” I said coolly.

“In front of all these people, you admit to being a pretentious usurper. Everyone knows it's just an excuse for a bunch of political outcasts to grab power.”

“I never admitted to anything of the sort, and I daresay you don’t speak for ‘everyone’. However, you’re entitled to your opinion,” I said, making it clear I was unimpressed and perhaps a little bored.

“If you were a man of honour, you'd step outside and answer the charges.”

One way or another, I was definitely being either set up or tested. Before I could formulate a response that didn’t involve bursting out laughing at him, someone hit him with a powerful freezing spell.

A tall, elegant woman with dark, flawless skin she’d contrasted with an elaborate, form-fitting outfit all done in white and silver that looked more sculpted than sewn descended the grand staircase. “My dear Marquis, how unkind of you to use such language in my house…to my guests.”

Vivienne hadn’t completely gotten rid of her Marches accent, though she’d modified it into something more elegant and perhaps a little mysterious. Her mask was silver, crowned by a hat of white with a gold winged crest in the front and — I kid you not — big, pointy stylized horns the same grey as the sleeves that covered her arms. It should have looked ludicrous, but somehow she made it work for her.

She continued, “You know such rudeness is…intolerable.”

“Madame Vivienne, I humbly apologize,” the Marquis ground out from half-frozen lips.

“You should.” She circled him, stopping in front of him. “Whatever am I going to do with you, my dear?” She turned to me. “My lord, you’re the wounded party in this unfortunate affair. What would you have me do with this foolish, foolish man?”

The whole scenario screamed set-up. I briefly considered testing her by saying she should kill him, but for all I knew she’d take me up on that. Instead I settled on, “The Marquis doesn’t interest me. Do whatever you like with him.”

She released him from her spell, saying, “Poor Marquis, issuing challenges and hurling insults like some Fereldan dog lord. And all dressed up in your Aunt Solange’s doublet. Didn’t she give you that to wear to the Grand Tourney? To think, all the brave chevaliers who will be competing left for Markham this morning…and you’re still here. Were you hoping to sate your damaged pride by defeating the Herald of Andraste in a public duel? Or did you think his sword would end the shame of your failure?”

He sighed and hung his head. I wondered how much she actually knew about me, given as a mage I certainly wouldn’t agree to a _sword_ fight with some noble twat.

She said, “Run along, my dear, and do give my regards to your aunt.” She turned back to me, smiling. “I’m delighted you could attend this little gathering. I’ve so wanted to meet you.” Her eyes were a lovely shade of grey, just a little lighter than my own.

She didn’t wait for me to respond — just said, “If you will?” and started walking. She led me to a more private area, stopping in front of a set of high windows open to let in the evening air. I still felt that that whole scene with the Marquis had been set up for my benefit, but was curious to see what her angle was. If the freezing spell was supposed to impress, it had fallen short — I could have done that myself.

Vivienne introduced herself. I said, “Your salon has certainly exceeded my expectations so far.”

“I’m glad to keep you entertained, my dear,” she replied. “I wanted to meet you face to face. It’s important to consider one’s connections carefully.”

_And I was expected to be one of her connections?_ Her opening gambit didn’t do anything for me as she started off talking about the Chantry being in shambles, “But the faithful flock to your banner, pinning their hopes on you to deliver them from chaos.”

I said, “I’m neither qualified to nor interested in addressing the particular concerns of the faithful. Nor am I associated with the Chantry in any way. There’s a job that needs doing, and I’m doing it for all of Thedas.”

She blinked for a half a second then smoothly recovered. “I see. In this case the needs of Thedas and the faithful are the same, so your success will equal their deliverance regardless.” Then she said the wrong thing: “As the leader of the last loyal mages of Thedas, I feel it only right that I lend my assistance to your cause.”

“The last loyal mages?” I echoed. “Loyal to whom?”

“To the people of Thedas, of course,” she said as if I was an idiot for asking. “We have not forgotten the commandment, as some have, that magic exists to serve man. I support any effort to restore such order.”

Keeping my tone carefully neutral, I said, “So you’re in favour of returning mages to the Circles, then?”

“Where else can mages safely learn to master their talents? We need an institution to protect and nurture magic. Maker knows, magic will find neither on its own.”

“Uh huh. And would you preserve every aspect of them? Under the aegis of the Chantry? Compulsory residency for life? Templars? Phylacteries?”

“Darling, before we get into fussy details, don’t you think it would be wise to save the world first?”

Those _fussy details_ made one big fucking difference to me, but I let it go for the moment. “Of course. In what capacity are you offering your services?”

“Normally I would be content to act as liaison to the court, but under the circumstances, I would join the Inquisition on the field of battle.”

“So what is it you can offer us?” Mentally I had circled back to that _last loyal mages_ crack.

“I am well versed in the politics of the Orlesian Empire. I know every member of the Imperial Court personally. I have all the resources remaining to the Circle at my disposal. And I am a mage of no small talent. Will that do?”

I eyed her skeptically. “We already have three powerful mages, myself included, in our core group, plus all the so-called rebel mages under Fiona. You may not have heard I allied with them some time ago. If you were to join us, I’d expect you to treat them with respect. I repeat — we’re not a Chantry operation and I won’t countenance your promoting the Circles or disparaging those you don’t consider loyal in the Inquisition.”

Her eyes narrowed a bit behind the mask, but her delivery was unruffled. “Of course, my dear. As I said, saving the world comes first. I understood you’re _from_ the Ostwick Circle, though?”

“I was there,” I said shortly.

“My offer still stands, Inquisitor.”

I tried balancing my distaste for her views against the excitement Leliana and Josephine had shown at the prospect of having her in our camp. I didn’t really want her on board but… “Then I suppose I should officially welcome you to the Inquisition.”

She gave me a satisfied smirk. “Great things are beginning, my dear. I can promise you that.”

“I’ll have my people contact you to make arrangements. You should probably get back to the rest of your guests before I’m accused of monopolizing all your time.”

“How considerate of you. You won’t regret this, my dear.”

I already kind of did.

_=#=_

The next day, back in my usual clothing, I strode back into the central plaza for my meeting with Ponchard de Lieux. I was feeling out of sorts. My coffee that morning had something Orlesian done to it — they’d added some sort of spice that left a bad taste in the back of my mouth and it hadn’t had the flavour of proper coffee at all. I could swear it hadn’t been as effective either. Added to that, I was skeptical that allowing Vivienne to join the Inquisition was a wise move no matter what my advisors thought, and I was sick to death of all the masks and the annoying accent. At least the merchant was where he was supposed to be — my tracking spell told me that much.

As I approached he said, “Ah, Inquisitor Trevelyan! As you can see, I am here just as you requested.”

“You were aware I could track you if you weren’t, de Lieux,” I retorted. “Where is it and how much do I owe you?”

“Such cynicism,” he said mournfully. “I have it right here.” He reached into a leather pouch on his belt and pulled out a jewelled amulet. 

I gave him the price he named without haggling, and he gave me the amulet. It had a triangular gold base with a large blue jewel at each point. In between were two smaller gems on the left and right sides. The gold had been rounded around each of the jewels so the edges had soft curves tracing them. At the top, an elegant, two headed snake formed a single loop, with a chain attached where the two heads crossed. I gave him a stern look. “If this isn’t the real amulet, I’ll come back and fuse that mask to your face permanently.”

“That is the piece your friend sold me,” he insisted. “Show it to him. Then you will see I am a man of honour.”

“With the amount of money I just gave you, you can likely get into the League de Celestine the old fashioned way, by bribing the right people,” I said sourly. That masked weasel wouldn’t know honour if it walked up and handed him its dance card.

He brightened at that thought. “You are a perspicacious man, Inquisitor. I apologize for any…misunderstanding between us. It was a pleasure doing business with you and I hope your friend appreciates the trouble you went to.”

I gave him a brusque nod. “As long as this is the correct item, I’ll forget all about telling anyone what you attempted.”

“Wonderful, wonderful.” He hesitated. “Um. Do you think you might remove your tracking spell now?”

“Once he confirms it’s his I will. I have to go now.”

“Of course. Thank you, Inquisitor.”

I nodded again and walked away. The tracking spell would fade on its own, but he didn’t need to know that.

Feeling pleased with myself, I took a little time to check out the legitimate shops lining the great plaza. Most of them weren’t terribly interesting — specializing in such things as wine, women’s shoes, and bath accessories — but there was a cheese shop with little free samples, another that sold gourmet coffees, and stuffed between an equestrian shop and a newsstand overflowing with circulars, there it was: _Émile's Fine Leathers._

I entered the shop. It was narrow but long, with racks of leather clothing down both sides. There were trousers, vests, boots, jackets, and coats. I’d been thinking about getting a better coat, particularly since home at the moment was up a bloody mountain, and decided the name of the shop was a sign I should indulge myself (my father’s name is Emil; the shop’s was just an Orlesian version of that). I went to the long rack of leather coats and began inspecting them.

A slim man with slicked back chestnut hair, pale blue eyes and a thin, precise moustache approached. “Good day, monsieur. I am Émile and this is my shop. As you can see, everything here is of highest quality. Is there something I can help you with?”

“I’m looking for a coat. Long, black, and I want something that’s going to last years,” I said.

“Do we have a price range?”

“Money’s no object.” I figured the Inquisition at least owed me a good coat.

The man’s face lit up. “Wonderful, monsieur. _Bien._ Well, then. Do you ride?”

I said I did, and he led me to a rack next to the one I’d been examining. “Now, monsieur, there is a very good chance we will have something that fits you, unless you wanted it constructed to order?”

I shook my head. “I don’t have the time for bespoke right now. I was hoping I might find something in these.”

“As I said…” He rifled down the row of coats, pulling out three that he set aside. “If you would care to try these, there is a mirror right over here.” He led me to it and hung the coats on a nearby hook.

The first one was tight through the shoulders and appeared to have been made for someone with freakishly short arms. Émile _tch_ ’ed and whisked it away.

The second…oh, yes. I felt duty bound to try the third to make sure, but told Émile I’d come back to that one. The third coat fit well, but felt very light and had decorative stitching I found off-putting. I took it off and went back to the second coat.

It was long, ending at mid-calf, deep black and slit up the back for ease of riding. The leather was thick and heavy but astoundingly soft and pliable. The collar could be worn down or popped. It had a removable lining.  It buttoned shut and had a sturdy belt around the waist. It fit like it had been made specifically for me. It was the most beautiful coat I’d ever seen.

“An excellent choice, m’sieur,” Émile enthused. “It looks tailored to you. One of an exclusive shipment we recently received from Master Wade of Denerim. He swore it is authentic dragon hide, which makes it a very rare piece indeed. We also offer a lifetime guarantee should any flaw arise that was the fault of the designer for just a few silvers more.”

“Mm hm. How much is it?” I spun in front of the mirror and the coat flared dramatically. I loved the coat. I wanted to sleep in the coat. I really didn’t care what it cost, but I had to ask. He named a price that was indeed commensurate with dragon hide. I paid and wore the coat out, already planning on layering it with hardening spells so it really would last a lifetime.

I still have that coat, I still love it, and I’ve imbued it with so much magical hardening and protection that it’s the single best piece of armour I own.

It also looks absolutely badass.

_=#=_

I was fairly sure Leliana would be annoyed with me haring off on my own, but I didn’t feel like waiting around Val Royeaux any longer so I left a note for her at the inn and hired a fast boat to take me the short route across the narrow section of the Waking Sea, bought a horse on the other side and rode back to Skyhold myself. I knew where the inns were along the way, so I didn’t have to camp overnight. Fortunately, I wasn’t accosted by anything hostile and made good time, getting back in the evening of the second day.

 Once I’d cleaned up, I went in search of Dorian, finding him as usual in the nearly empty library. He was leafing through a battered-looking tome, stopping occasionally to make a note. His hair was mussed from his unconsciously running his hand through it as he read.  There was a half-finished glass of red wine on the side table, and he’d conjured a light above him to compensate for the darkness in the rest of the library. He was wearing black trousers tucked into his high, black boots and a loose, cream coloured shirt. He’d rolled the sleeves up to his elbows. I watched him for a few moments, thinking how perfectly the scene encapsulated his essence (what can I say — it was dawning on me that I was probably in love with him, and I was thinking commensurately soppy things).

I made a small noise as I approached him and he looked up, smiling with what looked like honest pleasure when he realized it was me.

“Kai! When did you get back?”

“Not long ago.” I pulled a chair up next to his and dropped into it. “Just stopped long enough to wash the road dust off and hang up my coat before I came to find you.”

“I imagine it was difficult, being denied the heady joy my company for so terribly long.”

I grinned. “Yes it was, but you needn’t be so smug about it. Arse.”

“You wound me,” he said, looking anything but wounded. “So how was the soiree? Was there scandal and gossip and frostily heated exchanges between social rivals? Was Madame de Fer suitably ironic?”

I winced. “Dorian, that’s terrible. I’ll tell you all about it, don’t worry. There’s something else I need to do first.”

“You certainly do. You haven’t said hello to me with proper enthusiasm at all. One might think we were mere acquaintances. _Buddies_ , even.”

I wrinkled my nose at him. “Please. I would never be anyone’s _buddy_. I do have _some_ standards. But aren’t you supposed to fling yourself into _my_ arms when I arrive home from a long journey?”

He fiddled with the ends of his moustache. “I don’t know that I’ve ever had cause to delve into proper flinging etiquette. You may be right.” He set down his book. “Perhaps if we meet in the middle?” 

So we stood and did just that. His kiss hello was everything I could hope for, strong and enthusiastic. “Hello,” he murmured once we broke apart.

“Perhaps I should leave more often, if this is the welcome I can look forward to,” I said. “Damn. Should’ve gotten something to drink. If you want more wine, I’ll get us both something.”

He did, so I dashed downstairs quickly and grabbed that and beer for myself from the supply room by the kitchens. Returning, I cooled my drink with a thought, saying, “Now, before I regale you with tales of Val Royeaux, I brought you something.”

His eyes widened in exaggerated excitement. “A present? For _me_?”

“Just a little something I picked up from a street vendor,” I said casually, pulling the palm sized leather pouch from a pocket and handing it to him. “Here it is.”

He opened it and pulled the amulet out. His reaction wasn’t what I’d expected — rather than pleased surprise, he looked up at me with consternation, frowning. “It’s…the Pavus birthright. How did you — why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’? It’s yours. I wanted you to have it.”

“Now I’m indebted to you,” he said, incredibly. “I never wanted this. I got myself into this. I sold it because I was desperate. I wanted to get it back on my own. What I didn’t want is to be indebted to you or anyone. Now I am.”

“Dorian,” I said, trying to keep the irritation out of my tone, “What the _fuck_ are you on about? You are not bloody indebted to me. I didn’t even know why you were trying to get it back. I certainly didn’t know it was your birthright. Would you mind at least explaining your reaction to me?”

He sighed. “When I left home, I wanted nothing so much as to divest myself of anything belonging to my family, but…when I spoke to my father, he noticed it was gone. He asked about it. I told him it was back at Skyhold, as it was too valuable to wear whilst traipsing all over the countryside. But seeing my father…I felt its absence so keenly. It was childish to sell it. I love my country and this…it’s a symbol. It means I’m part of it. You must think I’m foolish and sentimental.”

“It’s important to you. Why would wanting it be foolish?” I said.

He shook his head. “And you went and retrieved it for me. Now I’m in your debt.”

I repressed the urge to shake him. “What part of _you are not indebted to me_ do you not understand? I didn’t do this so you’d be indebted to me, Dorian. I did this for you because I had this mad idea it might make you happy, and that in turn would make _me_ happy. No other motivation. In the midst of all this agonizing about imagined debt, you _could_ say ‘thank you’, you know. Just so I don’t think I should’ve left it with that Orlesian weasel.”

“I—” He stopped and shook his head, fighting what appeared to be a wry smile. “You are such a _frustrating_ man.”

I took a drink of beer and set the bottle down with a _clack_. “Explain it to me slowly, then. Assume I have no comprehension how my doing something nice because I wanted to puts you in my debt.”

“It’s the impression it gives. Kai, someone intelligent would cozy up to the Inquisitor if they could. They’d be foolish not to. He can open doors, get you whatever you want, shower you with gifts and power. That’s what they’ll say. I’m the ‘magister’ who’s using you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Dorian, we’ve been over this. It that really what all this is about? I’m sorry, but I don’t see that getting your property back for you constitutes showering you with gifts. I didn’t even include a fruit basket.” 

His mouth twisted like he was trying not to smile. “But _others_ don’t know that. They’ll just see I’m using you.”

I snorted. “Well, fine. Go ahead and use me.” I gave him a hooded look. “Or are you all talk?”

He finally laughed. “Oh, you are glorious.” He took a sip of wine, looking abashed. “I…am apparently an incredible ass at accepting gifts. I apologize. And thank you. I’m going to stop before I say something syrupy, but I won’t forget this…and I _will_ repay you. Count on it.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” I said easily. “You can start by giving me a proper thank you and then I’ll tell you all about the scary woman who’s coming to help us win the war with Corypheus.” 


	11. Sweet Thing

Much as I’d like to say the night ended with both of us in either my or his bed discovering exciting new vistas of sensual pleasure, the fact was the hard travelling caught up with me and after a few hours I nodded off in my chair. Dorian woke me and convinced me to get some sleep. He accompanied me to my quarters, thanked me again, and after a few minutes desultory conversation, kissed me good night and left. I was disappointed, but had to admit I was too tired to do much of anything.

I didn’t even get to see him the next morning — I was still working on my second cup of coffee when Josephine found me and made me get to work. Our scouts were nearly done setting up the forward camp on the Exalted Plains, so I had to be involved with planning who was going where, sign letters to landowners whose property we were going to be passing through, and wrap up a pile of bureaucratic loose ends before we left. There was an inn just outside of Verchiel that was the last outpost of civilization in the area where we’d have our official base. The stupid civil war between the Empress and her cousin Gaspard had managed to destroy anything on the Plains themselves except one lone fort that was in no condition to serve as a proper headquarters for visiting dignitaries.

We also received a letter from Vivienne, outlining the quarters she required and maker only knows what else — I passed it off to Josie immediately. Leliana arrived back in the early afternoon with a few pithy comments for me about taking off on my own like that.

I retorted, “You lot send me out into the field to battle Fade demons, red templars and how many other vicious beasts on a regular basis, then you tell me off for riding a well-travelled road by myself?”

She didn’t press it, but I think her professional pride had been slightly dented.

Finally, as it neared evening, I managed to get a few moments to drop by the library, half expecting this would be one of the few times Dorian wasn’t there just because that was how my day was going. I was pleased to be wrong.

He was at one of the bookshelves on the side opposite his favourite alcove, scanning the titles with a look of mild irritation.

“Hey. Something wrong?” I asked.

He smiled in greeting. “You’re alighting here for a moment? I’ve seen you dashing about today, and the pace you’re going at is exhausting _me_.”

I chuckled. “It’s not as bad as it looks for once. It’s been mostly meetings about this trip to the Plains. Speaking of which, you’re ready for it, I hope?”

“Just how exalted are these plains? My wardrobe is a wonder to behold, but I don’t know the protocol for an entire exalted _region_.”

“From what they’ve been telling me, something fire and dust proof in heavy leather sounds most appropriate. Apparently the Orlesians have made a hash of it. They haven’t even left a proper village standing.”

“Ah. More _roughing it._ I’m giddy with anticipation.”

“You looked vexed when I got here.” I gave him a questioning look.

“It was more in the realm of resigned dismay. This library looks more impressive than it truly is. You have remarkably little here on early Tevinter history, for instance. All these ‘gifts’ to the Inquisition, and the best they can do is the Malefica Imperio? Trite propaganda. But if you want twenty volumes on whether Divine Galatea took a shit on Sunday, this is evidently the place to find it.”

I smirked. “Does put a whole new complexion on the concept of a religious movement, wouldn’t you say?”

He choked back a snort of laughter and looked at me as though he was assessing something. “I suppose you haven’t been to your quarters yet, have you?”

“I’ve barely had time to get to the privy. It’s just a good thing everyone agrees we should quit in time for the evening meal.”

“You should visit them after you eat.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You’re up to something.”

“Nonsense. I’m simply concerned for your well-being. After all this running about you deserve a night in.”

“I’ll take your suggestion under advisement,” I said gravely. “But right now I’d best get back so they’ll let me go on time. Good luck with the books.”

_=#=_

They did let me go on time, so I ate and, curious over Dorian’s cryptic recommendation, headed back to my quarters. They were anticlimactically empty. I didn’t know what to expect or when to expect it, so I resigned myself to waiting. I did have a small stack of books I’d been meaning to read, and a stack of intelligence reports Leliana had given me. I looked longingly at the books and went to my desk to examine the reports. I stood on the wrong side of the desk leafing through them, unsure if I wanted to commit myself. I thought about going back out just long enough to get a few bottles of beer — I felt I’d earned them after being efficient and responsible all day.

Before I could act on that worthy thought, I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. I turned, setting the reports back down unread. 

Dorian ambled into the room, expression somewhere between sultry and amused. He was wearing black trousers and his high black boots again. This time his shirt was a deep wine red, and fitted to him. He looked…delicious. I took a few steps toward him and he stopped.

“So! It’s all very nice, this flirting business,” he said with a smirk. “I am, however, not a nice man.” He glided forward to circle me as he spoke. “So here is my proposal: we dispose with the chitchat and move on to something more…primal. It’ll set tongues wagging, of course. Not that they aren’t already wagging. I suppose it really depends.” He stood close behind me, breath warm in my ear. “How bad does the Inquisitor want to be?”

“The Inquisitor has left the room,” I said as I turned to face him. “ _I_ , however, can only say it took you bloody long enough.”

“I like playing hard to get.”

“Then you must have been beside yourself with glee lately,” I said with a glare that was mostly affectation. “And now?”

He gave me a slow smile. “I’m gotten.”

I made a low noise of approval and pulled him to me. 

I’m not going to go into detail about what we did — that’s between Dorian and me. I’ll just say that he is every bit as gorgeous unclothed as I’d expected, and it was very much worth the wait. 

I’d never really been with another mage (hurried liaisons in the Circle don’t count, as they had little emotional content and were all about getting it done quickly before any Templars noticed), and it was…kind of amazing. Not just adding magic to the mix, though there was endless potential for innovation with that, but because of the way the magic running through both of us…meshed, is the best way I can describe it. It added an extra harmonic to everything that’s very difficult to describe, because it was both a physical sensation and an awareness, but not completely either. I think the degree of magical power we both possess made a difference in the strength of the feeling, because even Dorian — who had a lot more to compare it to — seemed surprised.

For not talking about it, I’ve talked rather a lot, haven’t I? The fact is, even years later, I still find being with him kind of amazing. Actually, scratch the ‘kind of’.  If anything, I’m madder about him now than I was back then, because now we truly know one another and still _want_ to be together. 

But, as they say, I digress.

After that first time, I was lazing on the bed in a state of long-delayed satisfaction while Dorian made a circuit of my quarters. As he hadn’t worried about getting dressed, I was quite content to watch. His ass alone should qualify as one of the wonders of the world.

“I like your quarters,” he said, half-turning to look at me.

“Do you now?” I said lazily.

“Don’t misunderstand. I’m not suggesting we venture into mutual domesticity. I just like your appointments.”

I said, “Ah. My _appointments_.”

“Not that I couldn’t suggest some changes. Your taste is a little…austere,” he added.

I snort-laughed. “That’s not my taste, that’s called I haven’t bothered to decorate much. I still don’t completely feel like this is my place. At least I got the drapes and extra chairs. They haven’t got back to me about the trapeze yet.”

He chuckled and padded back over to the bed, sitting on the side. “Imagine that.”

“You’re welcome to change things around if you want,” I offered.

“No. That’s not what I want.” His tone was oddly heavy.

I shifted to sit next to him. “Something bothering you? You sound…distracted.”

“Sex will do that to you. It’s distracting.”

“So they say. Yet your expression doesn’t reflect _I’m thinking about sex_. It’s more of a _how do I say this_ look.”

“Alas, you’ve found me out. There is something I want.” He gave me a doe-eyed look. “I was going to suggest you buy Antiva.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Really? All of it?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Their rugs are completely overrated.”

I smiled, but said, “Dorian…” warningly.

His mischievous smirk turned solemn. He fiddled with the ends of his moustache and said, “I’m curious where this goes, you and I. We’ve had fun. Perfectly reasonable to leave it here, get on with the business of killing Archdemons and such…”

I clamped down on a little fillip of terror that he was trying to find a nice way to dump me. I said carefully, “Is that what you want?”

He looked me in the eyes. “All on me, then?”

“Should it be all on me?” I shot back.

He sighed. “I like you. More than I should. More than might be wise. We end it here, I walk away. I won’t be pleased, but I’d rather now than later. Later might be dangerous.”

“Why dangerous?”

“Walking away might be harder then.”

“I want more than just fun, Dorian,” I said bluntly. I was sick to death of playing games.

He looked at me blankly.

“Don’t tell me I’ve rendered you speechless.”

He blinked and quirked a smile before settling back into appearing distressed. “I was…expecting something different.”

“Like what? Uproarious laughter? A sonnet? You honestly thought I’d invest this much time and effort into _us_ just for a few sessions of slap and tickle?”

“Well…no. I just…”

“Dorian. I tried the just for fun route. It didn’t take me long to realize I’m just not configured that way. I want more. I think you do too, so what’s troubling you?”

He raked a hand through his hair. “Where I come from, anything between two men…it’s about pleasure. It’s accepted, but taken no further. You learn not to hope for more. You’d be foolish to.”

“Is this a Tevinter thing, or does it have to do with your vaunted Altus breeding programme?” I asked.

He snorted. “The latter, of course. A pairing that doesn’t at least have the potential to produce new, more powerful little mages isn’t to be countenanced.”

I cocked my head, giving him a look of disbelief. “Are you honestly telling me after everything you’ve gone through to be true to yourself, you’d just roll over, accept and follow that philosophy?” 

“It’s not that I’m accepting—”

“Dorian, do you hear yourself?” I gave him a light smack on the back of the head. “If you’re going to deny yourself this, you may as well have made your parents happy and married the girl. Forget _hoping_ for more — this _is_ more. Or it could be.”

“You say that like it’s a simple thing, easily imagined.”

“That’s because it is.”

“I don’t know the first thing about having a real relationship,” he protested.

I grinned. “Neither do I. Not because it was forbidden — I’ve just never met anyone I cared about deeply enough to try very hard. I’m sure we’re both bright enough to figure it out as we go.”

He gave an incredulous laugh. “You are a remarkably bizarre creature, Kai.”

“Why? Because I want you and don’t see why we shouldn’t have a shot at happiness? I had eighteen fucking years of being told all the things I wasn’t allowed to do because of some other asshole’s agenda. I am no longer willing to capitulate to any of them. I repeat, after all you went through, you’re really willing to throw me — and _us_ — over because your peers in Tevinter would disapprove?”

“You—”

“Say it. I’m correct, you want this too, and you’d be mad not to at least _try_.”

He shook his head, but he was smiling. His riveting grey eyes met mine. “All right. You’re correct, but I suspect we’re both mad. So we’re going to just make this up as we go along? Like the Inquisition?”

I shrugged. “Works for me. Preferably with fewer advisors, though.”

“Next you’re going to say we deserve this.”

“We do. Why should everyone else get all the fun?”

“Why indeed…” He gave me an arch look. “So, care to inquisit me again? I’ll be more specific in my directions this time.”

“Show off.” I growled and took him in my arms. 


	12. Up the Hill Backwards

The next several days I probably would have considered ‘good’ even if Corypheus had commenced razing half of Thedas with a combined dragon and darkspawn army. Once Dorian decided to give our relationship a chance, he didn’t back away. When I wasn’t having to play Inquisitor, we spent every spare moment we could together, even in circumstances where we had to keep our clothes on.

It hadn’t escaped people’s attention that we had escalated our relationship, though we kept things reasonably low key in public. I knew there was going to be increased gossip, so I got Sera to listen and tell me what was being said. All in all, it wasn’t too bad. The two main topics were salacious speculation and, naturally, what it signified that Dorian was Tevinter. That concerned both Dorian and my advisors, but I maintained when people saw nothing changed and there was no preferential treatment towards Tevinter, nor efforts to bring Tevinter into the Inquisition beyond Dorian and Krem, they’d eventually settle down and find another conspiracy to chase.

Then it was time to leave for the Exalted Plains. Our forward teams under scout Lace Harding had already set up the first camp within the territory and assessed what sort of threats we’d be facing. There didn’t seem to be anything too unusual in the preliminary reports, considering what passed for usual since the breach had occurred. Cullen’s forces would deal with larger, more mundane problems like ensuring all the Orlesian combatants that had been tearing the countryside apart were told a ceasefire was in effect. Our core group would pinpoint the smaller, persistent problem spots and deal with those, splitting into four to six person teams for speed and efficiency. My primary job, as always, would be to close the rifts.

Even with said core group travelling together while the larger force found its own way to the Plains, there were still quite a few people to move. There were nine of us plus Bull’s lieutenant, Krem (who was along to learn about rifts while the other Chargers took care of some mysterious side contract they’d had to clear up), a few extra troops as escorts, pack horses and wagons with extra gear and supplies for the trip itself. I wasn’t looking forward to having to go through the same routine for the more distant areas we were going to need to move on eventually.

At the same time, it was something of a relief to get away from Skyhold for a fortnight. The Fearless Leader stuff was challenging and interesting, but the diplomatic side of it got wearisome. I could die happy if I never had to endure another round of making nice to some spoiled prat of a noble who thought they could squeeze favours out of us by playing either power or head games.

We set out too early for my tastes about a week after Dorian and I had become an official Couple. Once we got out of the mountains, it was a day-long trek to reach the stretch of Imperial Highway that ran through northern Orlais. That would take us to our official base in Verchiel, and from there we’d take less well-maintained local roads into the Exalted Plains.

As we rode in a very loose formation, people soon separated into the small groups they got on best with. Dorian and I rode together, with Sera joining us for stretches before going off to see what other people were up to. Bull, Krem, Cassandra and Blackwall traded war stories. Varric had struck up a surprising friendship with Cole (who had joined the Inquisition permanently not long after we arrived at Skyhold), and Solas seemed content to ride a bit apart from everyone. Vivienne had yet to arrive at Skyhold, but we had plenty of mages already.

The weather was crisp and autumnal, which actually made it ideal for travel. I’d left my wonderful new coat back at Skyhold because I wanted to harden it first and…it was still new enough that I didn’t want to get it dirty. So I was in the old leather coat the Inquisition provided.  
****  
“You know what this means, don’t you?” Dorian said.

“I’m not sufficiently coffeed to understand what time of day it is, let alone the meanings of anything,” I complained. “Why does morning have to be so bloody _bright_?”

He’d already been with me long enough to know to ignore most of my grousing when I first got up. He didn’t even react when I got sarcastic unless it was patently uncalled for, bless him. He simply continued with his thought.

“We’re going to be in _tents._ ”

I looked at him blankly. “Are you making some sort of pun?”

He grinned. “No, _amatus,_ though it’s an easy one to make. I was merely observing that the two of us will of necessity be sleeping in a tent. Together. We haven’t done that before.”

I thought again I was really going to have to ask him what _amatus_ meant, as he’d started calling me that a few days previous. “Yes we have,” I started to say…then it dawned on me what he was getting at. I said, “Oh. Yes. Well. We’ll just be quiet, that’s all. Muffling spells, if need be.”

“You’re sure you’ve never done this before?”

“Before joining the Inquisition I’d never even _camped_ before, unless you count the odd overnight foray on the grounds of my parents’ estate as such.”

“What a charming picture. It occurs to me you must have had hair then.”

I gave him a narrow look. “I have hair _now._ I just choose to shave it.”

“And it suits you, amatus. I meant to ask how you ever arrived at that tonsorial choice.”

I chuckled, feeling a little melancholy as I thought of it. “I did it on a dare. Turned out I like it.”

“How long ago?”

I had to think about that. “Maker…maybe thirteen years?”

“And you’ve never wanted to grow it back out?”

I gave him a crooked smile. “Have you ever wanted to shave yours off?”

“Touché,” he said, unruffled.

“I take it you had camped before this?” I tried to imagine Dorian on a voluntary camping trip and couldn’t.

“When I left home I had occasion to experience all manner of exciting things I wouldn’t have otherwise. Unexpected poverty will do that. I won’t say it was pleasant, but it was certainly…educational.”

I wanted to ask him more about that, but figured I’d have more luck in private. We both had things we’d rather the others not overhear. Instead I said, “Ever been to Verchiel?”

“No, it’s quite a bit farther west than I ventured. I’d been thinking of visiting Val Royeaux when I caught wind of what Alexius was up to and went to Redcliffe instead.”

“I suppose in a strange way I should be thankful to Alexius, then.”

“I was planning on dropping in on the Inquisition regardless. Alexius just afforded us a more dramatic manner of meeting,” he said cheerfully.

The weather stayed cool but mild and there was little traffic on the road. The countryside the Imperial Highway cut through was still mountainous, with rocky outcrops and stands of evergreens, until we descended from the winding route that would lead to Emprise de Lion if we took its turnoff. 

The rest of the way meandered through increasingly flat lands covered with tall greenish-brown grasses and stands of skinny deciduous trees with bushy tops that were mostly bare that late in the year. Small brown birds provided a constant chorus throughout the day, with crows croaking counterpoint as we passed. Here and there narrow dirt or gravel roads led off the highway, sometimes to distant structures, other times disappearing into the trees. Once we passed a farmstead with fenced fields inhabited by incurious cows and horses. As the sun started to set, the light breeze that had been with us all day grew stronger and colder until people donned cloaks and jackets against it. Dorian and I cast small heat spells. Solas, of course, remained determinedly barefoot and betrayed no indication of discomfort.

We set up camp in a large, flat field a short distance from the highway with a jumbled escarpment of glacial rock at one end. Cole looked curiously at the escarpment and said it was a “thin place.”

Sera declared it “creepy.”

We examined it, walking slowly around its perimeter and checking in the magical spectrum as well, but even Solas could find nothing untoward. We finally admonished the guards to keep an eye on it and returned to getting the camp in order.

Once we’d eaten (druffalo steaks accompanied by a boiled potato concoction with shallots, chopped greens and spices), everyone sat about talking about nothing particularly important for some time until Blackwall stood and announced he was going to get some shut eye. That seemed to signal an end to the night. 

Dorian and I went to our own tent accompanied by good-natured cat calls from our colleagues. As usual, there were one man cots set up to keep us off the ground, but that was now problematical. After some discussion, we set them close together and cast attraction spells on them so they became one larger bed, albeit with a thin wooden beam going lengthwise down the centre. Some rearrangement of bedding completed the project. As we’d discussed, we were quiet _and_ used muffling spells, so anyone attempting to eavesdrop was doomed to disappointment.

Some hours later I was awakened by an odd crackling, tearing noise. I was still trying to decide whether I’d dreamed it when someone shouted _Rift! Over at the rocks!_

We scrambled out of bed and I yanked on my trousers and ran out of the tent. I immediately stepped on a sharp rock and regretted not taking time to put on my boots too, but didn’t have time to run back for that. The rift was a big one, and was already spitting out demons. People were boiling out of their tents, weapons in hand. The guards, Bull, and Krem were already there taking on the demons.

Dorian (who had taken the extra moments to put on footwear) handed me my staff and we made our way to the rift.

A huge, spiky green bastard of a demon appeared seemingly out of nowhere on top of one of the guards and he went down shrieking as it took a vicious swipe at him, knocking his helmet off and rending bloody scratches into his face and scalp. The blood looked black in the eerie green light of the rift. Dorian and I cast simultaneous freezing spells on the thing as Solas threw a barrier around the wounded guard. Bull lifted his greataxe and brought it down hard, shattering the demon.

Cass shouted, “Close it, Kai, we’ve got you covered!”

I tried to move in range quickly but gingerly (and still managed to find more sharp rocks to step on) and let the Anchor do whatever it did to close the thing. I could feel it wasn’t quite enough yet and warned the others another wave was imminent. It always seemed to take two or three waves of demons before the damn rifts closed permanently.

With a full complement of seasoned fighters, the demons didn’t stand a chance. The second wave had a couple of fiery rage demons, two of those big green bastards that looked like a terror beefed up with enhancement spells,  and one skeletal arcane horror. Everyone went at it with a will while we mages primarily concentrated on casting barrier and freezing spells so our people were protected and the demons were slowed. As they were cutting down the last one, I hit the rift again and this time it closed completely.

“Well, that was bracing,” Dorian said.

“Easy for you to say, standing there wearing boots,” I said sourly.

“Tootsies not happy, are they?” he inquired sweetly.

“I’ve never been one for going barefoot — you inevitably step in or on something ghastly. Solas is fucking mad.”

“I _said_ those rocks were creepy!” Sera crowed as she trotted past. She, too, had put on footwear.

“Would you like to ask Bull to carry you back?” Dorian persisted with false solicitude. 

I glared at him. “You’re right. You’re _not_ a nice man, taking pleasure in my suffering.”

“Please, I have nothing but the utmost sympathy for you,” he protested.

“What does he need sympathy for?” Krem asked. Cassandra, who had been right behind him, stopped too.

Dorian pointed at my feet and said succinctly, “Rocks.”

“I do not think I’ve ever seen him without boots,” Cassandra remarked and looked at me with mock surprise. “You have _feet_.”

“We could get the Chief to give you a lift back,” Krem suggested.

“Yes, ha-ha, you’re all very witty,” I said. “I’ll survive, thank you. You can all go now. Except Dorian.” I gave him a smug look. “Since you care so very much, you can walk with me and kick rocks out of the way.”

_=#=_

We reached Verchiel late the next afternoon. It was a small, wealthy city with typical Orlesian architecture — that is, lots of whitewashed stone, tile roofs, latticework and decorative gardens and fountains. I was sure they had an alienage somewhere and equally sure it wasn’t nearly as pretty. There wasn’t anything special about Verchiel; it was just located halfway between Lydes and Montsimmard at the edge of the Exalted Plains.  That made it an ideal stopover for travelers and merchants, and as a staging area for forays into the Plains, especially now that they’d managed to destroy any place to stay on the Plains themselves. That’s why we were there.

The inn that would serve as our base was large and well-appointed, suitable for convincing visiting dignitaries that, while the Inquisition may have been an upstart organization, we were upstarts with the money to make things happen. The building was two stories, U-shaped with a large courtyard sporting benches, flower boxes and a decorative fountain at the back. It normally catered to wealthy merchants and travelling nobles with retinues, so there was no problem accommodating a party of our size. A few of our people would be there for the duration of the mission, meeting with curious nobles who might be persuaded to support our cause and maintaining a presence in case something went wrong.

_=#=_

It was too late to venture onto the Plains, so we got to overnight at the inn. Dorian and I absconded up to our room as soon as was acceptable, since it would be back to tents for days after. We had the staff bring up enough food for a light snack, and enough drink to relax with a few without overdoing it and starting out the mission hung over. We locked and warded the door then inspected the room.

It was large enough to have a small sitting area consisting of two overstuffed armchairs angled toward each other across a small, round lacquered table set in front of the fireplace. There was a window overlooking the courtyard at right angles to the fireplace and a long chest of drawers along the wall (we’d set the drinks on top of it). The other end of the room had a comfortably large bed with high headboard and low footboard, a six drawer dresser and a closet. There was a wash basin and mirror at the midway point. The whole thing was carpeted (the carpeting was sturdy and blue-grey), and oil lamps were there for lighting. The facilities were located across the hall.

“Not bad, eh?” I said, hanging up my coat then sitting to unlace my boots.

Dorian made a slow circuit of the room. “I’ll allow it’s acceptable. For the south it’s positively elegant.”

“It’s the nicest inn I’ve been in.” I paused. “Mind you, I haven’t stayed in that many inns.”

“One day, amatus, I’d like to show you what _real_ luxury is.” He sat in the other chair and began unbuckling his own boots.

“You mean in Tevinter?” He said _mm hm_. “I might like that,” I mused. My thoughts on Tevinter since meeting Dorian had gone from kneejerk antipathy to…complicated and cautiously positive.

“You would,” he said, eyes shining.  “I know a place in Asariel where each suite is a cabin that opens onto a private beach, and you have your choice of— well, you need to see it. There’s just no way to do it justice.” He wrinkled his nose. “As an extra perk, there’s no soot or any of the assorted fascinating odours one finds here.”

I pulled off my left boot and went to work on the right. “Are we really so backwards in the south?”

He shook his head mournfully and pulled off his own boots. “Amatus, you have no idea.”

As I removed the right boot I said, “Dorian…”

He said, “Hm?”

“What does _amatus_ mean?”

“It’s a term of endearment. You don’t mind, do you?”

“No, I don’t mind.” I stretched and smiled at him. “It’s kind of nice. I don’t know that anyone’s ever thought me endearing before.”

“Then they’re fools, the lot of them.” He lit the logs in the fireplace with a thought. “That’s better. You know, we should really take advantage of the fact that we’re out of the elements for an entire night.”

“You think?” I pulled off my overshirt and tossed it at the dresser. I missed and it landed on the floor. “Damn. I’ll have to pick that up.”

He reached out with a kinetic spell, floating it to the dresser top. “There you go. Problem solved.”

“Show off,” I said with a smile. “I’d be really impressed if you’d folded it too.”

“I’m far too relaxed,” he said. “Speaking of which, we should have a drink.”

“Is this the part where you’re a bad influence on me?”

“That can certainly be arranged,” he said with a sultry smile. “I could be positively _wicked_.”

“So you claim. At the moment you’re all talk.”

Dorian ran his index finger along his moustache, the smile becoming more diabolical. “Why, Inquisitor, are you _challenging_ me?”

I stood and got myself a beer, chilling the bottle as I uncorked it. “If you don’t feel you’re up to it…”

“Are you quite sure _I’m_ the one that’s the bad influence?” Dorian stood too, removing the last of the strappier elements of his travelling gear and the shirt underneath them.

“Of course you are,” I said with a smirk. “I’ve been told that Tevinters are inherently inclined toward wicked acts, and that I’m just an innocent Circle mage.”

“Innocent? Now tell me the one about the prime waterfront properties you’re offering in the Fallow Mire.”

He circled behind me, sliding his hands under my shirt as he leaned in close. He kissed my neck, then used his teeth, alternating between the two as his hands traced lines of heat up my abdomen. “However, if you’re going to insist I be the wicked one…” he purred in my ear. He ran his hands up my sides and continued up to pull off my undershirt; I accommodated the move. The shirt joined its mate on top of the dresser.

I turned to face him and we kissed. He continued on, working his way down my throat, following the line of my collarbone to my chest and stomach, alternating kisses with nips of his teeth. He paused to say, “You know, for a mage you’re in remarkably good shape.”

“Nice of you to notice.”

“However, I’m supposed to be wicked, aren’t I?” He ran his fingers firmly down my sides, casting cold that made me yelp. He followed that by casting heat over the same lines and a diffuse shot of electricity that made my skin tingle.

I twined the fingers of my left hand in his hair and tugged hard, pulling him back up and into a kiss. “You are even more overdressed than I am,” I observed.

“Mm. Just let me pour a glass, will you?”

“Delaying tactic?”

“Just parched, amatus. Don’t let that stop you from disrobing. I’ll catch up in a moment.”

“Hm…I’m not normally a great fan of wandering around nude to no purpose,” I said feigning skepticism.

He took a sip of his wine. “No purpose? While I do quite enjoy the view, I assure you this will be both purposeful and interactive. I may be wicked, but I’m hardly going to deny my _own_ pleasure. That’s positively unTevinter!”

“Well, when you put it that way… However, I insist you at least catch up first.” I set my beer down and moved over to help him remove his own undershirt. He draped it over the back of his chair, the firelight painting his skin in shifting tones of gold.

“Happy?” he asked with a faint smile.

“Happi _er,_ ” I corrected. “Shall we do more than chat about this?”

“You do have the most brilliant thoughts at times.”

We embraced again in front of the fireplace, and the feel of his skin against mine, warm and firm over smooth muscle, was enough convince me that his idea of undressing the rest of the way was equally brilliant.

“So shall we be wicked or creative?” he asked, eyes shining in the flickering light.

“I’d say there’s time for both.”

Happily, there was.

_=#=_

I lounged on the bed, pillow stuffed against the headboard as a backrest, enjoying the view as Dorian set his wine glass on the nightstand and rejoined me.

“You know we’re supposed to be getting sleep now,” he said.

“We will. I don’t know about you, but I’m not exactly tired yet. Not in a going to sleep way.”

He settled in next to me, draping his right leg over my left. “Well, since I’m sure this town is sadly lacking in late night theatrical venues and going out would mean getting dressed, I suppose we’ll have to entertain ourselves a trifle longer.”

“We’ve done all right so far.”

He grinned. “We have, haven’t we?” 

I turned my head so I could look him in the eyes. “Speaking of that…it may be too early, but I’m wondering: where do you see this going?”

“This?”

“You know. Us.”

“We’ve reached that point already, have we?”

“I thought you said you’ve never done this before.”

“I haven’t, but one hears tales. Someone always starts wondering.”

I ran my hand along his thigh, enjoying the feel of him. “I apologize for thrusting you into a cliché, but I am wondering.”

“Where?” He fiddled with the tips of his moustache. “Assuming one or both of us don’t get slaughtered before this comes to an end? Where do _you_ want this to go?”

“Throwing it back on me, eh? That hardly seems fair when I asked first.”

He gave me a faint frown. “We could still go our separate ways, if you prefer. I’ve been a port in a storm before. I would understand.”

I sighed. “Dorian. We’ve been over this. You are not in Tevinter and do not have to play by its rules. I’m not interested in casual. I told you, I’ve done that and I don’t find it satisfying. Though if you’ve decided that’s what _you_ want, I’d rather know now.”

“I…No, I don’t but—”

I eyed him narrowly. “But what?”

“Kai, you’re the Inquisitor. You’re doing important things. You’ll soon be king of the world at this rate. I am but an adornment on your arm.”

I snorted. “You don’t believe that any more than I do. For one thing, if that’s all you were, I’d have no interest in you.”

He smiled. “The fascinating thing is, you honestly mean that.”

“Of course I do. And because you’re far more than arm candy — though you do serve quite admirably in that capacity — I want some assurance from you that you’re not intending to turn this into a Tevinter-style dalliance out of some cockeyed belief that it’s for the best. I’m whimsical that way.”

“I’m in no way treating this like I would have back home. But I’m also not the saviour of Southern Thedas.”

“Neither am I.  I’ve bailed out a small corner of Thedas, and people already resent me even for that.”

“You joke, but your followers aren’t joking.” 

“You’re the one who told me my efforts will go unappreciated.”

He grinned. “On a personal level, they will. But one day they'll write books about you. Boring ones that will get it all wrong. Just watch.”

I chuckled then turned my serious look on him again.  “Look, Dorian, I’m sure you think I’m being tiresome after we’ve just had a perfectly wonderful time but…I’m frighteningly mad about you and completely out of my element. I admit it. I’m looking for reassurance that this isn’t going to blow up in my face.”

He gave a funny little laugh and took my hand. “I never know when you’re going to go from artful subtlety to being alarmingly blunt. I — damn. Now if I hide behind glibness I’m the worst kind of coward. One moment.”

He retrieved his wine glass and drank most of its contents, so I re-colded my beer and downed it. He got up to refill his drink and brought me another beer, settling back into his spot on the bed. His hair was spikily mussed; it looked good on him.

“All right,” he said, taking a deep breath, “Serious hat on. Which is not easy for me. I do feel the same way about you and I don’t want this to end. I…honestly never thought this would happen.” He made a disgusted noise. “Now see what you’ve done? I’m starting to sound like the worst kind of treacly love ballad.”

“Throw in a couple of swear words or a dick joke. It does wonders for breaking up treacle.”

He chuckled and took a sip of wine.  “I truly wish I could say we’re going to be together forevermore. But I just don’t know what the future holds for us or anything. That’s my honest answer.”

“Fair enough. I wasn’t asking for a lifetime guarantee, you know.”

He gave me a quizzical look. “Then what—”

“I just wanted to know if you feel the same way. Before this goes further. Because I have trouble believing something this good can be real, and I’m still half-convinced that while I’m halfway to being in bloody love with you, in your mind I’m some barbarian you rather like enough to talk to when we’re not fucking, but only till you can go home again.” 

“I actually managed to follow all that,” Dorian said with an incredulous laugh. “Possibly because I feel the same way, though you’ve expressed it eloquently — or perhaps convolutedly — enough for both of us. Of course I’d have to revise the ‘barbarian’ part.”

I smiled wryly. “I told you I’m no good at this emotional shite.”

“Then let me try. Since we seem to be equally mad about one another and equally bad at expressing it, we agree we both want this relationship. We make no predictions about the future, though we can reopen discussions any time we wish.”

“Sounds perfect to me.” I yawned. “What time is it, anyway?”

“I’m sure we don’t want to know. I’m also sure we’d best get some sleep.”

I sighed. “Yeah. Rifts to close tomorrow.” I slid out of my sitting position and tried to punch my pillow into shape. Dorian waited, then pulled me into his arms. We kissed and parted reluctantly. I put out the lights with a thought.


	13. Abyssus

I opened my eyes to weak light filtering in the window and the sight of Dorian sleeping next to me (well, he was buried so deeply under the covers all I could really see was a thatch of raven-black hair, but I knew he was there). I decided that was a sight I’d like to see every day. I got up long enough to use the facilities and climbed back into bed. Dorian made a small, complainy noise at the puffs of cool air I’d let in and burrowed more deeply into the covers. I turned on my left side and ran a hand along the line of his hip, wishing we didn’t have to leave as I fell back to sleep.

A few hours later, we were back on the road that led onto the Exalted Plains. There was no clear demarcation where they began, rather a slow accrual of signs. Travelers went from infrequent to almost non-existent, and those we did see were invariably going the opposite direction. Abandoned and broken things became regular sights at the side of the road. The winds sometimes carried whiffs of burnt things or carrion, and the atmosphere felt dull and oppressive.

“To think they never touted this as a holiday spot,” Dorian said.

“It used to be kind of pretty along here,” Blackwall — who was riding alongside us — said. “Always had the ugly history, though.”

“Read enough and you’ll find virtually every location on Thedas has an ugly history attached to it at some point,” I said.

“Blights’ll do that,” Blackwall said.

“Blights?” Sera made a rude noise as she nudged her horse closer. “You can’t blame the blights. It’s just people. Always plenty of wankers what can’t be happy if they’re not punching down on everyone else.”

“I’m inclined to agree with Sera,” Dorian said. “People’s capacity to be cruel to one another is seemingly limitless. The blights simply add darkspawn to the mix.”

I stifled a yawn and wished I had more coffee, even though it would fuel the need to piss. The sunlight had a glary quality to it that was making me squint. 

The forward camp was in a valley formed from a rocky escarpment on the left and a large, intact wall from an old ruin on the right. Another escarpment started on the right at the end of the wall. The camp was set up in the wide, level centre, close to the old keep wall.  Past the camp, halfway to the old section of wall leading into the plains proper, were huge statues looming over both sides of the path through the valley. They were both of the same bearded man holding a chafing dish full of fire. I assumed it was supposed to be Maferath, but for all I knew it was a tribute to a particularly popular local chef.

When we arrived, Scout Harding immediately debriefed us. They estimated there were between ten and twelve open rifts in the greater area, which meant we’d also have to watch for random Fade demons roaming. Aside from those, the primary threats were a pocket of Venatori, another group calling themselves the Freemen of the Dales (who were apparently using their newfound freedom to attack anyone who wasn’t a Freeman), and packs of aggressive wolves. There was an outbreak of undead in the military fortifications that had driven both armies back to their respective keeps, but she wasn’t sure of the details.

In other words, typical for what we’d been dealing with.

The only other things of note were reports of a Dalish clan in the vicinity, and we needed to check up on a fortress that hadn’t sent any communication for several days.

We sat down and worked out a general strategy. As usual, we’d split into smaller teams to cover more area quickly, though I’d end up having to go damn near everywhere eventually to close the bloody rifts. While I and my smaller team — Dorian, Sera and Iron Bull — made our way to the fortress, closing whatever rifts we found, the others would deal with the Venatori, look into the Freemen and, because Solas was with them and was about as elfy as you can get, make contact with the Dalish clan if they were still in the area.

We loaded up with supplies, made arrangements to meet back at the base camp in three days, and headed northeast into the war-torn countryside. That first day was unremarkable in that it was exactly what we expected. Well, we didn’t expect to run into a military encampment overrun with undead right away, but they weren’t very difficult to dispose of, and burning the piled bodies was not only more hygienic, but seemed to stop the problem.

We took a meandering route, eliminating wandering packs of Fade demons and hostile Freemen along the way. We found and closed a couple of rifts and by nightfall had made it to the northern edge of the plains where they met the Enavuris River. Not only was the river a source of water (that still needed to be boiled because there was no knowing how many dead things had fallen in it), but the breezes cut down on the charnel smell that hung over much of the area. We set up camp and spent a quiet night.

The next morning we made our way east toward the uncommunicative Fort Revasan, closing a rift in the shattered remains of a small town and marking a bridge to a settlement across the river for repair once Cullen’s forces arrived. The fort itself turned out to be crawling with Fade demons, as a rift had set itself up in the keep’s massive basement. We’d never seen a rift establish itself indoors before, but as Dorian pointed out, a rip to the Fade could happen anywhere, so they were bound to occur from time to time.

Other than its location, there were no surprises. We shut the rift down in short order then informed the soldiers (who were camped nearby) they could return to their base. They were grateful and wanted to throw us some kind of celebration, but they also told us there was another, bigger rift not far away on a wild embankment of the river.

We debated taking care of it that evening, but decided to wait for morning. That way we could shut it down quickly and make our way back to the base camp via another route, hopefully intercepting more rifts as we went. We let them make us a meal, but limited ourselves to just a few drinks each and got to sleep early. No one wanted to spend more time on the Plains than we strictly had to.

Getting up earlier than I ever wanted was only bearable because Dorian was next to me in the Captain’s quarters they had given us and the sooner we finished, the sooner we could leave. We pulled on clothes and light armour, had breakfast (happily, they had coffee) and were out of the fortress within an hour. The rough stretch of coast with the rift took another hour to reach.

“I think all future rifts should confine themselves to basements,” Dorian said as we skirted yet another outcropping of rock. 

“That would be grand,” Sera agreed. “Dunno why so many people say the outdoors is the dog’s bollocks.”

“For the same reason they say waking up at the crack of bloody dawn magically makes you a better person,” I complained.

“Rift ahead, boss,” Bull reported, his height advantage resulting in his seeing it first.

_=#=_

 

We crested the top of the table-like rocks we’d been climbing. Stretching below us was an area of rocky ground covered with high scrub grass and big chunks of glacial rock. A couple of huge, weathered tree trunks lay in the middle of the expanse, though the forested area began above the high rock wall on the right. The river was to the left, its rocky bank sloping gently down to the water.  

The rift was roiling near the far end. We clambered down the rocks and, as always, it reacted to our presence with that crackling, tearing noise, spitting out its first complement of demons. There were a couple of wraiths that were more annoying than dangerous, a couple more of the clawed, long-limbed teleporting creatures known as terrors and a lone despair demon. We closed with them, Dorian and I hitting the terrors with freezing spells to prevent them teleporting long enough for Bull to chop them into bits while Sera fired unerringly at the wraiths and demon.

I‘d avoided a shot from the remaining wraith when a rage demon came charging out of the rift, striking at me in undirected anger. Though I threw up a barrier as I dodged, its claw somehow glanced off my armour. I heard a tearing sound but didn’t think anything of it as I cast freezing on it. Dorian doubled down on my spell then Bull shattered it with a few precise blows. While he was doing that, I closed the rift.

We regrouped and waited for the second wave because there was always a second wave at the very least. It seemed to me if the Anchor was going to lodge itself in my dominant hand, the least it could do was close the bloody rifts on the first try, but my opinion obviously didn’t count.

I was hoping this group would be more of the same, but no such luck. The creatures emerging this time were all bigger and nastier… _much_ bigger and nastier. There were _three_ greater terrors (which are to regular terrors like a shark is to a goldfish) and a big bastard of a pride demon. Dorian and I cast barriers over everyone then hit the terrors with freezing. We couldn’t count on Bull this time because he and Sera were taking on the pride demon. We had to try and kill the things before they could physically reach us.

I followed up my freezing with a heavy force spell, concentrating on the terror that had caught the brunt of the first spell. The telekinetic punch opened cracks in its half-frozen skin, so I followed those spells with a gout of flame and had the satisfaction of hearing it shriek as it writhed, burning.

Dorian was doing well with his terror when the pride demon let out a howl of pain and rage and charged in his direction, one of Sera’s arrows sticking out of an eye. Dorian dived out of the way as the pride demon barrelled into his terror, knocking it off-balance then nearly tearing its head off with a swipe of one massive, clawed hand. Dorian animated the newly dead terror and sent it after its killer.

I suddenly had my hands full as the remaining terror teleported almost literally on top of me. It struck at me viciously with its huge, clawed hands. I was about to cast a force spell when its claws snagged my armour and, with a sickening ripping noise, the entire left side of my reinforced coat tore open, sagging uselessly away from my body.

The terror hissed and dug its claws deep into the gap, slicing through the padded cloth vest I was wearing like it was gossamer.  I felt them scrabbling and digging viciously into my left side, though everything was happening so quickly that any pain I might feel hadn’t caught up yet. I fired a force spell that knocked it back and off me then another that slammed it into the ground. A quick freezing spell to slow it, and I wheeled around, running for a better vantage point to finish it off. My left side felt wet, and I suspected once the adrenaline wore off I was going to discover some serious injuries.

I made it perhaps ten paces before the bloody thing materialized in front of and slightly above me. It drove me into the ground, knocking the air out of me. The back of my head bounced off what felt like rocks, leaving me momentarily dazed. As I gasped and tried to ready a spell, it leapt on top of me, raised its hand with what I swear was a triumphant hiss, and slammed it into my left side with every bit of power it had.

One of those great, clawed fingers drove straight through my ribs, breaking at least one of them as it penetrated the bottom of my left lung and continued through me. The pain was immediate and huge and shocking, and the power of the force spell I fired at it contained the energy of every bit of that pain and shock.

I blew it to bits. As a rain of what had moments ago been a demon fell on me, I gasped and felt something was terribly  _wrong_  aside from the obvious pain. I couldn't sit up to see the damage, but I felt the area cautiously. I may have blown the rest of the demon into salad toppings, but the clawed digit that had slammed into me was still embedded there. It was incredibly painful, but probably better that it was still there because it was at least blocking anything from bleeding out.

I lay there gasping shallowly, feeling oddly detached from what I was experiencing and wondering where the others were. A brief eternity later I heard Dorian calling. I couldn't answer; that would have involved taking a deeper breath and I'd never felt that kind of pain in my life. I was also beginning to fade in and out, making thought difficult.

I heard Sera shout  _he's here_  and then  _ooooooh…shite!_  as she looked down at me. I may have floated off for a moment, because suddenly Dorian was next to me and Bull was staring at the mess my left side had become. Dorian was asking  _what happened?_ while Bull asked him  _Can you heal it?_

 _Certainly not with that thing still in him,_  Dorian replied,  _and we daren't pull it out until we get him somewhere safer than this. I can stop the worst of the bleeding but…Kaffas!_

I wanted to tell Dorian I didn't think he'd be able to heal something that big, and wondered how they were going to get me anywhere safe. They got me to swallow a healing potion and Dorian did what he could, but it wasn’t going to be enough. The pain was still so huge I couldn’t begin to quantify it.

After some frantic discussion I didn't quite follow (being distracted by pain and the difficulty of trying to breathe around the thing impaling me), Bull picked me up like I was a child. That hurt so much I greyed out for a few minutes, then spent another acutely uncomfortable eternity being transported to camp. I thought of a few wryly pithy things to say about my situation, but couldn't work up the energy or courage to say them. Not when every step Bull took jostled me and sent shocks radiating from my left side.

I think I went out again, because the next thing I remember is being laid on a table. I want to say it was the requisition table at camp, but I don’t know for sure. I know I felt cold. They’d removed my ruined armour, so it could have just been that I was shirtless, but I think it was more than that.

The group that had gone south was back and gathered round the table too. Solas probed around the piece of fade demon still impaling me and said calmly that it would have to come out immediately because _possibly due to the Anchor and his natural connection to the Fade as a mage, the demon remnant is trying to bond with him._

Dorian said, “You mean it’s trying to become _part_ of him?”

Solas replied, “Precisely. I haven’t seen anything quite like it before, but to allow it to continue will kill him.”

On top of feeling cold and in indescribable pain, I now felt sick. I also thought Solas could have had the decency to at least look a little upset. After some discussion about how to go about it, they decided the most efficient way would be to rip it out with brute force and be ready with every healing spell and potion available to dose me with the moment it was removed. Solas would see to it that all traces of the demon were excised.

They warned me it was likely to be fantastically painful. I could have told them it already was, but only managed a nod and a gaspy, “Just get it out.”

Dorian cast a binding spell to keep me still and took my right hand in his. Bull wrapped his hand around the chunk of demon protruding from me and on a count of three, yanked on it with all his considerable might. It tore out rough and reluctantly and I freely admit I screamed in pain before blacking out.


	14. It's No Game

I remember virtually nothing of the next few days — they kept me unconscious via sleep spells, both to keep me still and spare me the pain. Dorian filled me in later.

They strapped me into one of the camp cots, wrapped in blankets and held still with a binding spell, and transported me by wagon back to Verchiel and the same room at the same inn we’d occupied on the way there. 

They had a non-magical healer waiting — a human named Elma…something. I’m sorry, I don’t remember her last name. I may never have learned it. Ironically, a mage healer wouldn’t have done me any good at that point. I’d had so much healing magic and so many potions dumped into me to keep me alive when they removed the demon claw, any more were likely to have no effect or even worse, the opposite. They had no choice but to allow things to heal naturally, and for the first week in particular, that was a dicey proposition. The healing was so tenuous internally, a bad case of hiccups could have killed me. 

Elma was there to tend to my basic needs and keep an eye on my condition. She was also apparently the most talented non-magical healer in the area, and would be able to provide nostrums and tinctures that might help. She was in her forties, with dark hair and eyes, heavyset without it being unhealthy. She was unfailingly patient and kind to me through the entire ordeal. I counted myself lucky that she was there.

Sera told me later that Dorian never left my side for a moment. I assume that’s a bit of an exaggeration, since one does have to use the facilities on occasion, but he didn’t tell me he’d stayed with me like that.

The first few times I awoke barely even count. I registered I was in a bed in a room and fell back into sleep. When I finally came fully awake, I don’t recall swimming back up to consciousness or anything so dramatic. I just woke up with the thought that I was thirsty. I thought about sitting up and rejected that idea; my body had never felt less like moving. But I was still thirsty. I made an irritated noise and Dorian said, “Amatus?”

I turned my head just enough to see him and mumbled, “Hey.”

He said, “You’re awake!”

I didn’t answer, as that was obvious. Instead I said, “Thirsty.” The word took more effort that it should have.

He said, “Of course you are. Just a moment,” and stood. He moved just out of my line of sight and a moment later I heard a ratcheting noise. Half the bed rose, propping me in a sitting position without any effort on my part.

“It’s dwarven made,” he said, anticipating my question. “I’ve seen these beds in Tevinter before, but I had no idea they’d made it down here. Amazing what enough money can get you. I’ll get your water.”

While he did that I slid my arms out from under the blankets. That is, I managed the right one just fine, but when I moved the left one a deep bolt of pain shot down my left side. I gasped and swore.

Dorian was back immediately, glass of water in his right hand, saying, “Kai?”

“Water first, please.” He helped me with it, and though I wanted to gulp, I forced myself to sip it. When I finished, he set the glass on the nightstand by the bed.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

I thought about that. It was a little difficult to think quickly. “Confused. And tired. My left side hurts. A _lot_.” The pain hadn’t gone away after that initial bolt; it had settled into a dull, throbbing ache that was somehow becoming more noticeable.

“I’m not surprised. Do you want me to see if there’s something for the pain?”

I nodded. He took my right hand in his and squeezed gently then left again. I felt my eyes trying to close and blinked hard.

Dorian came back trailed by Elma. She carried a dark blue bottle and a shot glass. She set the glass on the dresser against the wall near the bed and filled it with liquid from the bottle. She brought it to me, saying, “Drink this.”

I squinted at it. It smelled funny. “What is it?”

“It’s something for the pain.”

I drank. It tasted weird too. Sweet, but with a rotten undertaste. I said, “Yech,” and yawned.

Dorian thanked her and sat in a chair by the bed as she left. I thought about saying something, but fell asleep in mid-thought.

That was the rhythm of my first day or so back in the land of the living. I’d wake up, drink water, say a few sentences to Dorian and fall back to sleep. I don’t think I managed to stay awake more than ten minutes at a time.

Finally I was able to keep my eyes open long enough to have a coherent conversation. Elma had given me more of the pain-killing concoction (which didn’t entirely kill the pain — it just made it bearable) and I had water and Dorian next to me.

He said, “Are you feeling better?”

“Compared to yesterday? Much. Compared to last week, I feel like I got run over by a beer cart and its entire team of horses after being attacked by a maniac with a really big knife.”

He smiled. “At least you’re able to form sentences now. Do you remember what happened?”

I had to think about it for a minute. “Yeah. My fucking armour fell to pieces and some big green demon nearly had me for lunch. _Fuck,_ my left side hurts. How bad is it? What did it do to me?”

“It’s…You’ll see soon. When Elma cleans everything. I’d rather not disturb anything until then,” Dorian said, shadow of a frown crossing his face though I could see he was trying to be positive and pleasant. “Speaking of lunch, do you feel like you could eat?”

I examined that thought. “Maybe. A little. How long has it been?”

“Four days.” That shadow of a frown reappeared. “I very nearly lost you. I must request you never do that again.”

“How near is _very near_?” I asked, even though I had a good idea.

“Later,” was his uncharacteristically laconic reply. “I’ll see about getting you some food. I warn you it’s likely to be soup at first.”

“Soup’s fine so long as there’s no turnips in it. Is there coffee?”

He smiled. “I’ll check. See you soon.”

For the first time, I was alone and awake. They’d put me in a loose nightshirt that buttoned up the front. I undid the top few with my right hand and ascertained they’d also bandaged everything from armpit to waist, so I couldn’t try to get a look at the damage. I tried moving my left arm and was rewarded with another bolt of pain travelling straight down my side. At least the arm itself seemed to be fine.

Dorian opened the door again, allowing Elma through. She was carrying a tray on little legs with a bowl on it.

“Soup, no turnips,” he announced. He was carrying a mug of coffee that smelled far more interesting.

Elma deposited the tray on my lap, promised she’d be back in a bit and left. I eyed the spoon and said, “Shite.”

“Problem?” Dorian asked.

“Dilemma. Do I use my left hand, which is going to hurt, or my right hand, which will probably spill the soup all over?”

“I suppose I could feed you,” he offered with an over-solicitous smile.

“Thanks, but no. I’ll try the left.” I drank some coffee then tried. As long as I moved my shoulder as little as possible, using the spoon was tolerable, but by the end of the bowl I felt irrationally tired. I slept again, but only for an hour this time.

Dorian was reading when I woke, but put the book down when he saw me stirring.

“You don’t need to,” I protested.

“Let me be the judge of that,” he retorted. “I’ve been waiting a very long time for you to come back, and the reading material available in this benighted town isn’t the most engaging. I’d rather talk to you.”

I felt ridiculously touched by that; my emotions seemed to be all over the place. “Thank you. That’s nice. Where is everyone else? We’re at that inn in Verchiel, right?”

“Yes, and they’re being kept away until you can handle an invasion. Your advisors have been having fits. I, of course, claimed the privilege of relationship and threatened to turn anyone who tried to put me out into a particularly warty toad. They couldn’t be sure I can’t make good on that threat, so here I am.” He gave me a triumphant smirk.

“I’m glad. There’s no one else I want to see yet. If they complain, I’ll back up your transmogrification claims.”

“My, six syllables. You _must_ be feeling a bit better.” He smiled and took my hand. “I hope you know you scared me to death, almost dying like that.”

“I didn’t mean to. I’ll be happy to make it up to you…eventually. Is there more coffee?  And is there a way to get rid of what I already drank? I’m…not sure I can get up quite yet.” I tried not to think about how that must have been dealt with while I was unconscious.

“Don’t you dare,” Dorian admonished me. “I’ll get the coffee and send Elma in.”

That didn’t exactly reassure me, but she was fine with handing me something to use then walking over to look out the window at the other end of the room until I finished. She even gave me another draught of painkiller and warned me she’d be back to check my injuries soon.

Dorian came back in with the coffee and filled me in on what had happened the past four days, including the reason no one had tried any healing magic or potions to speed things along. That alone convinced me he hadn’t been exaggerating about the severity of the damage.

“Leliana and Josephine have been keeping it all very hush-hush,” he continued, “though I don’t know if it’s primarily out of concern for you or the Inquisition.”

“Yes, can’t have it be known that Andraste’s Chosen could be taken out by defective armour and a lucky demon,” I said sardonically. “Has _everyone_ stayed here?”

“Not everyone. They’ve told people that you’re still out in the field with a smaller team, closing rifts. Sera, Cassandra and Blackwall have stayed here while the others went back.”

“By choice?”

He grinned. “I think Sera is enjoying being treated as an honoured guest and overtipping everyone on the staff with the Inquisition’s silver. Cassandra’s wanted to monitor your recovery, because without you the Inquisition loses its power and prestige…and I think she does care about you at least a trifle.  And Blackwall, believe it or not, seems to be spending an inordinate amount of time with our Josephine. Leliana’s also been here for three days.”

“Blackwall and Josie? I didn’t see that one coming,” I mused. “What about you? Please don’t tell me you’ve been in that chair waiting for me to wake up this entire time.”

“You’ll be pleased to know I’ve been using the bed that came with the room and I have made forays out to take care of various biological demands and find reading material,” he assured me. “The first few days I was also refreshing the spells to keep you asleep until you could start healing properly.”

“Fuck me,” I said sourly. “Every time you add something it gets worse.”

“Then I shan’t tell you what it took to transport you here,” he said with a theatrical grimace.

Further discussion was cut short by Elma’s return.  She was carrying a basin filled with linens and a large pitcher.

“You were wondering what the damage looks like,” Dorian said.

“Is there a mirror? I can’t really see my own side properly.”

Dorian nodded and moved out of the way. Elma asked if I could sit up all the way. I managed it with a pained gasp and a wince, as any movement pulled at my left side. She unbuttoned the nightshirt with quick efficiency, pulling it off to pool on the blankets around my hips. She set the basin on the nightstand, removed the linens and poured the water into it, saying, “Your turn.”

Dorian heated the water with a spell as she cut my bandages and carefully removed them. I shivered as the chill of fresh air hit me, and that hurt. It hurt more when Elma dampened a cloth in the warm water and started cleaning the wounds. 

“They’re mostly healed, but they’re still seeping a bit,” she explained. I tried not to flinch every time she touched them.

By the time Elma finished, my left side was screaming and I felt rather sick and lightheaded, but I asked Dorian to give me the hand mirror so I could see. 

Looking grim, he cast light and handed me the mirror.  There were five thick, jagged, angry red scars marching up my left side. The two outermost were shorter than the three inner wounds. They climbed up my side at a nearly forty-five degree angle. The topmost started just to the left of my nipple and ended just before my armpit. The three long ones began roughly following the line of the bottom of my ribs and raked upward nearly to my back. The bottom one had to have been from a partial gouge when it was scrabbling at me because it was deep but short. They looked exactly like they had been made by an oversized hand tipped with giant claws. Then there was the piece de resistance: a blackish-red, almost perfectly round scar the size of a large coin roughly three inches below and slightly to the left of the left nipple. They were ghastly.

Feeling sicker and very tired, I thanked Dorian and didn’t say much else while Elma wrapped new dressing and bandages around them. Once the nightshirt was back on, I lay back heavily and accepted another dose of painkiller. She told me I did well, gathered up the spent bandages and other supplies and left us alone.

“We got everything closed and healed enough that you’d recover in a fraction of the time so long as nothing got torn open while we were trying to get you here,” Dorian said, dropping into his chair. “However, there was no time to worry about aesthetics or try to pretty the wounds up after the fact.”

“I’m very grateful, of course. I just…” I trailed off, unable to come up with words that matched what I was feeling.

Dorian smiled. “I think the Iron Bull was jealous. He said, _they’re gonna look spectacular once they heal_.”

I gave a wan chuckle. “That sounds like him. I…think I need to sleep for a while. I feel kind of sick.”

He stood and ratcheted down the bed for me, then took my right hand, saying softly, “Amatus, I don’t care about the scars. I’m just grateful you’re alive.”

I squeezed his hand and said, “Thank you,” and when he leaned down to kiss me I kissed him back and found it in me to marvel that he was there and seemed to mean what he said. He put out the lights with a thought, promising he’d be back, and let me sleep.

_=#=_

The next fortnight was…difficult. Physically I’m sure it comes as no surprise that pain was pretty much a constant to one degree or another. Movement — including unavoidable things like breathing — pulled at the healing wounds, and every time that happened, it hurt. Elma’s painkilling draught helped, but I couldn’t take it all the time and there weren’t any good spells to help either. I just got used to enduring it and hoped the pain would eventually go away. Even though I tried to get up and start moving incrementally as soon as I could manage, I got tired with alarming speed and found myself needing to sleep frequently. Even though I tried to eat, I lost a lot of weight. For a time I looked more like an escaped prisoner than a burgeoning world leader.

Then there were the little things. I couldn’t lie on my left side or my stomach; to this day I can’t do that for long. Lifting my left arm above shoulder level hurt like you wouldn’t believe (which would make closing rifts harder, since they were always up in the air and I had to aim). Moving too suddenly or, maker forbid, bumping my left side felt like I’d been shot with a heavy crossbow bolt (or at least how I imagined it must feel, since I’d never experienced that). It added up to a thousand little annoyances, all of them painful.

It was the mental and emotional toll that took me by surprise. I’d never been seriously injured, or even seriously ill before, let alone under the circumstances this had happened, and I was completely unprepared for the impact it had. It would have been exponentially worse if it hadn’t been for Dorian.

I honestly thought I was handling everything well, all things considered. I wasn’t enjoying myself, but I was trying to be mostly pleasant and get back to normal as quickly as possible. I didn’t feel like talking to anyone, but Dorian had been doing a brilliant job of gatekeeping. No one could exactly disagree that near-death was a legitimate reason to feel a tad antisocial. There were times I didn’t even want to talk to him, and I felt bad about that, which made me snappish and then I felt bad about _that_ , but he seemed to understand and would usually find a reason to leave for a while when I became too unbearable. 

About four days after waking up properly, I was feeling just good enough to feel mentally wretched. I’d been out of bed for three days, taking short walks even though they left me annoyingly exhausted. I felt I’d earned a break, so I got one of the inn staff to bring me several bottles of beer.  I sat in one of the armchairs in front of our room’s fireplace (I had to undo the top button of my trousers because they dug into my stomach just enough to be uncomfortable) and cooled the first bottle with a quick spell. I knew I probably shouldn’t be drinking, but maker, when the alcohol started taking effect it was the first time I’d felt at all relaxed since I’d regained awareness.

Dorian came in and sat in the other armchair when I was about halfway through my first bottle. “Feeling better?” he asked.

“Not really,” I admitted. “Physically, yeah, I’m probably healing more quickly than I have any right to, but…”

“Care to talk about it?”

I started to sigh but cut it short as my left side threatened to react. “Yes and no. Maybe if I do I’ll stop bloody thinking about it all the time.”

I took a drink and Dorian looked at me questioningly. “Is that wise?”

I deliberately drank more. “Probably not, but it’s helping,” I said sulkily.

“Then it’s fine. Just try not to overdo it — you know it could turn on you.”

Well, that handily defused my little fit of pique. “I know.” I lit the fire with a small spell, as much to have something to look at as feeling chilled. “I remember most of what happened now. My mind won’t stop bloody going over it even though I’d rather not.”

“I take it that’s what’s responsible for your delightful mood of late?”

I snorted and winced as even that slight movement created a twinge of pain. “Partly, anyway. I mean, everything hurts, and if it calms down enough that it doesn’t, I invariably manage to do something accidentally that makes it hurt again. _You_ try being cheerful when that’s going on constantly.”

He pushed the table out of the way and scooched his chair next to mine so he could give my left hand a sympathetic squeeze. “It probably doesn’t help, but it _will_ get better.”

I smiled wryly, finished my beer and opened another. “I know. It’s the other shite that’s getting to me. I can’t relax. I keep feeling like something awful’s going to happen.”

Dorian smiled. “To be fair, amatus, you always seem to have that particular feeling.”

“No, normally it’s more of a reminder not to get my hopes up. This is like…well, like something else is going to appear out of nowhere and try to gut me. I keep getting bloody flashes of it even when I’m not thinking about it. I also keep feeling like there should have been something I could have done to stop it.”

“What do you imagine you could have done?”

I sighed. “Ow. That’s the _problem._ There’s fucking _nothing_. The fucking armour had a weak spot that wasn’t evident till it gave out. Then everything aligned _perfectly_ to make this happen!” I felt a wave of anger that was all out of proportion to what I was saying.

“Well, not perfectly,” Dorian demurred. “You lived, so the plan — if there’d been such a thing — failed.”

“Lived for what? So I can schlep all over the bloody backside of Thedas closing rifts and waiting for it to happen again?” I complained. “So I can have people question my every move while they insist some magical invisible lady who’s been dead for ages picked me for this job? So I can worry that you’re going to get sick of me and leave?” I hadn’t meant to say that last one, but the alcohol was hitting me harder than I’d expected and I was on a roll.

There was a moment of silence. I wanted to look at Dorian but I didn’t want to. I started mentally kicking myself for saying that out loud. I took another drink and stared at the bottle.

“Amatus. Kai. Look at me.” He squeezed my left forearm lightly. “Please.”

I complied, feeling stupid and anxious and angry with myself.

“While you’re schlepping around the backside of Thedas, I will be with you for every miserable, cold, muddy moment. What you’re doing is _important_. What you’re doing at Skyhold is important too, and the more people recognize that and recognize you as the Inquisitor, the less most of them are going to think about the invisible dead lady. Now come over here before we try to lean closer to each other as I say heartfelt things to you and you end up hurting yourself on the arm of your chair.”

We stood and I let him lead me to the bed (the regular one, not the dwarven one which we’d removed two days before) so we could sit next to one another. I took a drink and set the beer on the nightstand. Dorian sat on my right, turned towards me, so I faced him too. He put on hand on my thigh just above the knee.

“Now listen to me, Kai.” His riveting grey eyes met mine. “I am not going to get sick of you. I may not have shown it enough, I admit, but I am unwisely, wonderfully mad about you. I even tried not to be, but failed miserably. It’s the happiest failure I’ve ever experienced. Not that I’ve experienced many, mind you.”

I smiled, then the anxious depression I’d been feeling reasserted itself. “I’m…you know how I feel about you. I’ve made no secret of that. I also note that you didn’t rule out leaving.”

He looked away for a moment before meeting my eyes again, face solemn. “Amatus, can you deal with _my_ being slightly irrational?”

I squinted at him and took a drink. “You? How?”

“I feel that if I say I’ll never leave, something will happen next Thursday to ensure we never see one another again. You see, my mind is still trying to come to terms with this. I’m not _supposed_ to have this — to have you. As I told you, that was drummed into me from day one so on some deep level I suppose I feel I’m transgressing even though I want this more than anything.”

I shook my head and gave a short laugh. “Well, aren’t we the perfect picture of emotional stability.”

He smiled. “It’s our volatility that adds to our fascinating mystique.” He put a hand on each of my shoulders. “I’ll say this: I have no intention of leaving you. I don’t want to, and cannot imagine what would compel me to. When I said you’ve got me, I meant it. You may even grow weary of my constantly being underfoot, yet there I’ll be, a colourful punctuation mark when they write out your history.”

“Since I’d hurt myself getting after you for pretending to be insignificant, maybe we should just skip to the part where you kiss me,” I said.

He did, and for a while at least I was able to shake off the dark moods that kept gripping me.

_=#=_

Of course, that one night didn’t solve all my problems, and it was far from the only time Dorian helped ground me so I didn’t go off the deep end in either anger or depression (to be fair, I already had a tendency towards those, and had ever since the templars dragged me to the Circle when I was a boy). I had frequent nightmares of which, unusually, I remembered very little. (Mages are uniformly trained in lucid dreaming, as it’s a defense against the occasional fade demon that tries to attack or possess you in dreams, so I usually remember most of mine.) The chronic pain and exhaustion both receded, but slowly. The feeling that I couldn’t relax subsided even more slowly.

Then there was the question of intimacy. The first week or so, I simply couldn’t, but once I was improved enough, well, that didn’t go back to the way it had been either. There were just so damn many things that _hurt_ if I wasn’t very careful. We found workarounds, but poor Dorian had to do the lion’s share of the work for several weeks. I have to admit, I developed a hang-up: because the scars are so ghastly (and were far worse back then), and we really hadn’t been together that long, I started insisting on keeping a sleeveless undershirt on. Again I have to give Dorian credit for patience — that particular quirk went on for years despite his insisting the scars don’t bother him.


	15. The Width of a Circle

Nine days after I awakened at the inn, I could no longer legitimately avoid people. While I had a long way to go to recover completely, I could stay up several hours at a stretch without needing to sleep and there was nothing wrong with my legs, so I could certainly make it down to the common room. In other words, my advisors were getting restless.

With Dorian by my side, I made the trek to the common room in the early afternoon. We’d just gotten coffee and lunch (soup and sandwiches) when Sera plopped down at our table. 

“Here’s you lot, then, _finally_ ,” she said cheerfully then stared at me wide-eyed. “Kai, you have _hair_.”

I checked, and she was right. It was still very short, but thick and well past the stubble stage. “Shite,” I said around a bite of my sandwich. “Dorian, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think of it, amatus. I was a trifle preoccupied, you know.”

“Well, yes, but it’s got _depth_.”

“It doesn’t look _bad_ , just different,” he said.

“You don’t look like you,” Sera opined. “Between that and going all skinny, you look totally dodgy — like you should be hiring out to cut throats in the middle of the night.”

“It comes off tonight,” I said. “Sera, have you been waiting here all week?”

“Yeah, well, we’re supposed to be with you doing Inquisitor shite, aren’t we? I didn’t stay _here_ the whole time. Red Jenny had some things to do and _he_ wouldn’t let anyone near you even to say ‘get better’ anyways.” She gestured in Dorian’s direction.

“It was more to keep the others out. If I’d let you in, they’d assume Kai was well enough to get back to work,” he explained.

“Are you? You still look peaky,” she said to me.

“I’m well enough to tell them I’m not well enough yet. What was Red Jenny doing here?”

“Oh…stuff,” she singsonged vaguely. “Met the Jennys from here. Went out for a right piss-up. Verchiel’s kind of a pit, ennit.”

“I wouldn’t know,” I said drily.

She shrugged. “That’s why I’m telling you. You’re not missing anything.”

“I could go for a right piss-up,” I mused.

“You might want to wait a bit longer, amatus,” Dorian demurred. “It _has_ only been just over a week.”

I sighed. “Ow. Damn it. A few drinks later, then? It helps.”

“So all the healing they did worked?” Sera asked. “Like, it’s all closed up proper?”

“Yes, it all seems to be,” I said.

“’Cause you should’ve seen it, with that thing sticking in you. The tip of the claw was sticking out your back a tiny bit so it really did go right _through_ you. Then when Bull _yanked_ it out and it was, like, blood _everywhere_ and bits that were, like, _from_ you _sticking_ to it and you were screaming and Solas was doing magic _into_ the bloody great hole in your side and Dorian was doing magic too and _I_ got you to drink the healing potions then you passed out and Blackwall was dumping other healing shite onto all the gouges…” She took a breath, finally, and concluded wide-eyed, “It was _mad_.”

“You certainly know how to paint a picture,” I said faintly.

“Ta. I dunno how you’re up and around so fast. I mean, the hole that ripped in you was stonking _huge_ and—”

“Sera. I get the idea,” I said. My entire left side was starting to ache again now that I was thinking about it. “Fuck this. I’m ordering a beer.”

“ _One_ beer,” Dorian clarified, shooting Sera a glare.

I nodded and waved the serving girl over. Once she’d delivered my _one_ beer I asked Dorian and Sera, “What happened to the piece of Fade demon?” 

“I didn’t notice,” Dorian said. “Sera?”

“Bull threw it and it landed on the ground. The next time I looked it’d dissolved. Left the bits from you behind, but it was gone before they even got you cleaned up and ready to bring here.”

“It’s your attention to detail that sets you apart,” I said, taking a gulp of beer. I really didn’t need to know that bits from _inside_ me had been left behind on the ground. That alone was worth another beer.

“Well, the main thing is you’re still here even if you _do_ look like you’re trying to get into the Antivan Crows,” she said cheerfully.

“Maybe I should. It’d be safer.”

“I draw the line at moving to Antiva,” Dorian declared.

“What’s wrong with Antiva?” I asked.

“Their accent is almost as annoying as Orlais, they’re coarse but pretend they understand nuance and wit, and their fashions!” He shuddered theatrically.

“Well, I’d hate for you to feel you had to suffer such a cultural insult. I suppose I’ll just have to stay on as Inquisitor.”

“Now, that is what we like to hear!” I looked up to see Cassandra, Leliana and Josephine bearing down on us.

“Gotta run,” Sera said, leaping up and waving goodbye.

“Coward,” Dorian shot back at her.

“May we join you?” Leliana asked as they pulled up chairs and sat.

“How are you feeling?” Josie asked.

I shrugged and winced. “I’ve been better, but compared to a week ago I’m fabulous.”

“You’re looking good,” Cass said.

I snorted. “I’ve been informed I look like I’m auditioning for the Antivan Crows.”

“Still, it is good to see you up and around,” she persisted.

“What do you ladies want?” Dorian asked.

“Aside from inquiring after the Inquisitor’s health?” Josie said.

“Kai. I’m not Inquisiting yet,” I said.

“We were hoping to have a brief conversation about that,” Leliana said. “We know you cannot go back in the field right away, but do you think you could handle the trip back to Skyhold soon?”

“It’s barely been a week since he was all but dead,” Dorian objected.

“I can’t yet,” I agreed, taking advantage of the added imposition to signal for another beer. Dorian raised one perfect eyebrow at me, but didn’t object. “I’ll let you know when I feel up to it.”

“Fair enough,” Leliana said, “but we would also like to ensure we all agree on what the public should be told.”

I frowned. “Well, what are you telling them right now? Just that I’ve been out busily closing rifts this whole time?”

“Yes. It took easily this long in the Hinterlands,” Cassandra said.

“So you were thinking we could just pretend that nothing happened when we get back to Skyhold?” I demanded. I gave the serving girl a nod of thanks as she set down my beer.

“Depending on how well the healing went,” she added.

“The knowledge that you came so close to being killed might damage morale, and give our enemies ideas,” Leliana said.

“Particularly knowing the details,” Cassandra said.

“But given we cannot wait for you to look like your old self, we will need to say something,” Josephine finished.

“So you’re saying that admitting Andraste’s Chosen can be killed might upset people,” I said flatly. “Despite my repeated denials that Andraste had a damn thing to do with any of this.”

“You can’t expect him to act as if nothing happened,” Dorian said.

“Clearly not,” Leliana said. “However, that does not mean we need to tell them everything that happened.”

I killed my first drink. “Then what do you want to tell them?”

“We were thinking exhaustion,” Josie said.

“From all the rifts he’s supposedly been closing?” Dorian asked.

“Yes. We’ve already established that’s what he is doing,” Cass said.

“I didn’t know exhaustion is a thing that requires extensive recovery,” I said skeptically.

“No one knows what’s involved in your closing the rifts. We just add a few things about the Fade and the toll it takes. No one will question us, and anyone who does will get the same answers,” Leliana said.

Dorian regarded them all with a look of surprise. “That is actually rather clever.”

She smiled. “Thank you. Well, Kai? It appears we have Dorian’s endorsement.”

“It would save me having to answer any questions,” I said grudgingly. “Very well. We’ll go with the special exhaustion that comes from forcing too many rifts closed in quick succession.”

“Just don’t let anyone see the scars. They might be difficult to explain,” Cass advised.

“I have no intention of letting anyone see them,” I replied.

“Good. Then we will start letting some hints slip that you may need to return to Skyhold for a time,” Josie said.

“Just let us know when you feel up to making the journey,” Cassandra added. “And…we’re pleased that you’re still with us.”

My mind cynically thought _of course you are,_ but I just thanked them, watching with bemusement as they left the common room together.

“How soon do you suppose they had all this worked out?” I said.

“They’ve probably been lurking nearby, waiting to pounce for days,” Dorian said with a smile. “Feel like attempting a walk in the courtyard?”

“Yes.” I was a little surprised to find I did. “Just let me finish this drink.”

_=#=_

It took another half a week before I felt up to travelling, and even then I wasn’t entirely sure, but I was growing weary of the inn and could tell Dorian was too though he didn’t say anything. It hadn’t been an enjoyable stay. In addition to trying to eat and regain my strength, Elma made me apply a tincture to the scars to ensure the skin stayed as supple as possible, and of course the tincture stung. I also had to work at things like lifting my left arm above shoulder height so I’d be able to when things had healed. It doesn’t sound like much, but it hurt. Just about everything hurt.

I had Inquisition people asking with patient impatience whether I was ready to travel yet, and while they’d managed to keep what happened quiet, Verchiel knew a contingent of the Inquisition was staying at the inn, so we had curious locals nosing about daily. On top of everything else, the inn’s cook only made about three dishes well, and it wasn’t long until we were heartily sick of all three of them. It all made me tired and cross and while Dorian was wonderful, I know there were times he wanted to throttle me.

Finally I sent word to Josephine, and within a day we were riding back to Skyhold in a coach with heavily padded bench seats so I got jostled as little as possible.

If this were one of those adventure tales (which I admit a sneaking fondness for), I’d be able to say we were set upon by bandits or perhaps a dragon who turned out to have an ancient elixir that would miraculously heal me and make the scars disappear, but the truth is the journey back was completely uneventful. Dorian and I talked, played cards and may have gotten ever-so-slightly carnal, though carefully. I also slept a lot and awoke with the same pain and scars. 

It was mid-evening when I made my triumphant return to Skyhold. At roughly two weeks since I’d almost died, I wasn’t anywhere near back to normal, but I didn’t _look_ that bad. In my travelling leathers, you could barely tell how much weight I’d lost. Because I could fake it convincingly, they let everyone see me emerge from the coach in the main courtyard. Personally, I was holding back a smirk because they also saw Dorian — and just Dorian, no guard or physician or aide — emerge with me. I was dreading all the stairs we’d have to climb to make it to my quarters, but tried to act like it was no big thing. At least they let me go in the basement rather than brave the cheering crowd along the outside route.

By the time we reached my quarters I was thoroughly winded, my left side was screaming and Dorian was half-carrying me. He helped me off with my coat and I dropped onto the couch with a groan.

“Fuck this. Fuck stairs. I don’t care what it takes — this place is getting one of those lifts the dwarves make,” I declared between gasps.

“Perhaps the architects thought stairs build character?” Dorian suggested, sitting next to me with considerably more grace (he’d already begun automatically sitting at my right side, and the right side of any bed was officially mine).

“Fuck character. This is going to kill me, all these bloody stairs.”

“You survived the fade demon and you’re going to let stairs defeat you?”

“Yes. I’ve had enough. Or perhaps I’ll just Inquisit from here. I shall demand everything, including rifts, be brought to me until they remedy the stair situation.”

He grinned. “You don’t ask for much, do you?”

“I’m nothing if not reasonable. They could’ve at least lit the bloody fire, don’t you think?”

“I do think.” Dorian cast fire, setting the logs in the fireplace burning. “How are you holding up?”

I grunted. “It fucking hurts, naturally, and that climb left me feeling like I just scaled the entire bloody mountain. All of which is conspiring to make me want to drink.”

“You don’t think one of those painkilling draughts would be wiser?”

“Once I got to the point where I was coherent, I noted that one of the main ingredients in them seems to be alcohol.”

“And here I thought they were a non-magical stroke of genius. I know it helps cover it up, amatus, but consider waiting until you’ve let things settle and drank some water? Or coffee, perhaps?”

I sighed and winced. “You’re right, I know. You think we could at least do like you say you do in Tevinter and summon a servant with a spell? It’d be so much easier.”

“You would also terrify any servant you tried it on, I imagine. You’re likely stuck with the bellpull. You want me to pull it for you?”

I snickered.

Dorian gave me a withering look. “Honestly, Kai.”

“The fact that you know exactly why I was laughing makes you no better.”

“ _I_ was making a heartfelt effort to help you. You’re the one who descended into juvenile tittering.” He was trying to look offended but not quite managing it.

I draped my arm across his shoulders and pulled him closer. “And you have helped. You’ve helped immeasurably. I don’t know how I would have made it through this without you.”

He settled himself more comfortably against me, running one hand up and down my right thigh. “With a great deal more sarcasm and offensive spellcasting to keep everyone at bay, no doubt. I’m glad I was there to help.”

“Still not sick of me?” I said it lightly, but I worried. I knew I hadn’t been the most delightful man to be around lately.

“Amatus, that is not going to happen. I must say, after all you’ve been going through, you’re possibly the most _stoic_ patient I’ve ever encountered.”

“Nurse people back to health a lot, do you?”

“No, I’m afraid one is my limit. After that my milk of human kindness begins to instantly curdle. But I’ve seen people with much less severe injuries carry on as if they’re being personally tortured by angry ifrits where you just swore a bit and went back to sleep.”

“Ifrits? I haven’t run across any mention of those in ages outside of old books.”

“Where do you think I found them? I’m convinced they were really desire demons.”

“I agree. I thought the same thing reading about them. And don’t think I don’t know that you’re exaggerating how pleasant I’ve been. I know I’ve been difficult to deal with, especially when you’ve tried to be nice and I wanted to be left alone.”

“Don’t worry. I realized I shouldn’t take it personally. All in all, I’d rather you chase me off than attack for no reason.” He gave my thigh a squeeze.

“Hunh. As long as I wasn’t unbearable. You didn’t need to stay with me like that.”

“I wanted to.” He nuzzled my neck. “I still want to.”

“Good.”

For a time we just stayed like that, not even talking. I didn’t completely feel like Skyhold was home, but my quarters were certainly more comfortable than that Verchiel inn. I caught myself starting to nod off and forced my eyes open. “How long do you figure I’ve got before they put me back to work?”

“At least a few days,” Dorian said. “We should make the most of it. You know you’d best put in an order for new armour, given fade demons are remarkably resistant to withering glares and pointed remarks about their lack of manners.”

I chuckled. “More’s the pity. No more light fucking armour, though. I’ll sacrifice some mobility. I want what the rogues wear. And I’m incorporating my coat into it.”

“It’s a wonderful coat, I’ll give you that, but it’s not precisely armour, is it?”

“It can be if I harden the fuck out of it.”

“And is this because you think it would prove to be superior armour, or because you think it looks badass?”

“Well…”

He sat up straighter, grinning. “Kai Trevelyan — and to think they call _me_ vain.”

“You are vain,” I said complacently. “You’ve told everyone so. I, on the other hand, am practical and can’t possibly be vain when I only wear black.”

“That’s very underhanded of you.”

“It can be our little secret.”

“Perhaps I shall spread rumours that you lead a double life, attending only the most fashionable soirees throughout the land in the guise of The Dark Peacock.”

“Only if I can be a master thief who solves unsolvable crimes at the same time. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

“ _Venhedis_. I forgot that ties right into your taste in reading material.”

“It’s relaxing. You think they’d whinge if we set up a magical workshop? Not that I’d ever have time to use it.”

He turned so he was sitting sideways on the couch, facing me. “You’re Thedas’s great hope. You should take advantage of that. For instance, you could also order a better calibre of books than the library currently has.”

“The truth comes out. You’ve just been using me to improve your selection of reading material.”

He gave me a sultry smile. “Well, I shall have to continue using you for the foreseeable future. There’s ever so much reading material I need, it could take years for you to procure it all.” 

“That works for me. Take as much time as you like.” I turned too, wrapped my hand in his hair and pulled him close.

_=#=_

They gave me another week before I had to do much, and I needed it. I was still in at least a little pain (and sometimes a lot) most of the time, grew tired quickly, and didn’t have the energy to attend to many duties. Going back to the business of shutting down rifts wasn’t possible, and not just because I was waiting for my new armour to be made. Even Skyhold’s healer — who I had my doubts about — insisted I needed at least another month before attempting the kind of physical work involved in getting to and closing the rifts.

Dorian and I did take advantage of that week to spend as much time together as possible, though not all of it was perfect. I was still having bouts of anxiety and depression. I’d had to reconcile myself to the fact that the scars weren’t going to be able to be fixed, and still had to work carefully at exercising my left arm to ensure they wouldn’t interfere with my being able to raise it. The whole ordeal was painful and annoying and I had a tendency to go into a sulk and drink too much after working at it too long.

Despite the difficulties, it had pushed our relationship into something deeper, probably more quickly than would have otherwise been the case. I commented on that one night while we were lounging in bed.

“You’re right,” he said thoughtfully. He was lying on his right side, elbow bent, with his head propped on his hand. “I…I almost lost you after _just_ getting you. When we weren’t sure you were going to make it…well, it made me wonder exactly what I’d been holding back for.”

“Did you find an answer?” I was sitting up, leaning against the headboard with my pillow propped behind my back for padding.

“Yes. It was that same irrational conviction that this wasn’t supposed to happen. Here I was, for the first time in my life with someone who honestly wants me for _me_ , and I was trying to keep some distance to satisfy restrictions that I’ve always hated. I decided then and there to put a stop to that if only you would live.”

“Well, I hope I don’t have to nearly die every time our relationship might be reaching a new level just to give it that extra push,” I said.

“Please don’t. I don’t know that my nerves could take it.”

“ _Your_ nerves?” I demanded.

“I don’t think you know how deeply you’ve affected me, amatus,” he said seriously. “When it looked as if you might die, I was terrified. The idea that you might no longer be there — I couldn’t bear that. I have never — _never_ — felt so at ease with anyone. You understand me and you _still_ like me.” He shook his head disbelievingly then gave me a rakish smile. “And we’re certainly physically compatible. So I’m sorry, but I cannot lose you. I won’t allow it.”

I smiled slowly. “Dorian…it almost sounds like you’re saying you love me.”

He sat up cross legged. “Having never loved anyone before, I can’t say with authority, of course, but—”

I grinned. “I never have either, you know, but I’d say this fits the bill.”

He opened his mouth as if he were going to object, closed it again, fiddled with his moustache and finally smiled abashedly. “I suppose it does. Fine, then. I admit it, since you’re going to continue being relentlessly decent at me until I do. Kai, I love you.”

“I love you too. I have for quite a while, but I didn’t want to seem like I was rushing into tawdry sentimentalism.”

He gave me a speculative look. “So what do we do with this newfound information?”

“I don’t think you necessarily _do_ anything with it. It just…informs everything else we do. It’s not like we’re required to start picking out china patterns.” Though I did think now that we’d both said it, it was silly for him to go back to his own quarters every morning. I’d have to start working on that.

“Well that’s a relief,” he said. “I’d hate for our first official fight to be over herringbone versus Nevarran revival.”

I snort-laughed. “Isn’t that what Nevarrans are all about? You should appreciate that. It’s a necromancy joke.”

He gave me a narrow look. “Not even five minutes after my avowal of love and you’re taking advantage with dreadful necromancy jokes? Is this what I have to look forward to?”

“This and much more,” I said. “You know, if you want to stop the necromancy jokes _and_ acknowledge we just admitted we love each other, you _could_ try kissing me.”

“Just kissing?”

I growled. “And much more.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> As always, feedback, kudos, comments are welcomed. :)


End file.
